


Suite Spring

by morbid_beauty



Series: Bands in College AU [3]
Category: Bandom, Cobra Starship, Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, Panic! at the Disco, Taking Back Sunday
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Consent (No Non-Con), Depression, Drug Abuse, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Exhibitionism, Hand Jobs, Internalized Homophobia, Masturbation, Mental Illness, Multi, Open Relationships, Past Abuse, Polyamory, Recreational Drug Use, Threesome, Underage Drinking, Voyeurism, erotic asphyxiation, illicit drug use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-17
Updated: 2014-05-17
Packaged: 2018-01-25 10:22:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 49,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1645250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morbid_beauty/pseuds/morbid_beauty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How much can change after a month away from college? Drama follows the boys of suite L325 into their spring semester of freshmen year: Gerard and Ray’s rocky and sometimes odd relationship could work to Frank’s advantage if a figure from his past hadn’t shown up to rehash nightmares. Mikey and Pete prove to have a self-destructive relationship while at the same time being easily distracted from each other. And a third band appears to contend with rivals My Chemical Romance and Fall Out Boy. It’s time for the bands to fight for the coveted spot of main stage opening act for the college’s annual arts festival in April, while some boys fight for coveted spots in the lives of past and future lovers.</p><p>(Or: the one where things get dark and lots of sex is being had. 2/3.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Suite Spring

**Author's Note:**

> Took almost a year but here's the sequel to L street! Infinite love to my beautiful beta, [Lauren](http://courtneylovedcobain.tumblr.com/), for being my cheerleader and making me suck less. Many thank yous to everyone that has read other parts of the series. Enjoy!

When Frank was attending a New Jersey public high school, the idea of having a month off from school for winter break seemed like a dream come true. Mid-December to mid-January was his winter break now that he was in college, a blessed month that turned out to be the most boring thing in the world. He had his job at the local ice creamery waiting for him but nothing happens at a Jersey ice cream shop in the middle of winter so Frank spent his month off drooling on the store counter, making coffee, texting Mikey, and moving between his parents’ houses. He had a few visits from friends but it was otherwise an uneventful time.

It was boring, it was stressful, and Frank was glad to be back on campus.

The first person Frank saw when he got back on campus was Mikey. It was a regular Sunday afternoon in January: Linda was in her church clothes, Frank felt like a bum, and the air was just on the side of too cold. Frank was getting out of his mother’s car in the freshmen parking lot when he saw Mikey at the edge, smile slight and hand waving. Frank waved back and attempted to politely blow his mother off.

“I can refill my prescription in town,” Frank recited, leaning away from the car window.

“And remember the wedding next month!” Linda said, grabbing his hand.

“I will remember the wedding next month.”

Mikey approached the car and hooked his arm with Frank’s. Linda immediately smiled.

“Mikey!” said Linda. “Good to see you again.”

“Hello, Linda,” said Mikey. “Frank is expected for a get-together of sorts so I’ll have to steal him away.”

“Oh, alright.” Frank’s jaw dropped at just how easily Mikey got her to let go. Still, she looked at them with narrowed eyes. “Don’t get wasted on a Sunday night.”

“I won’t!” Frank called, stepping back from the car. She zoomed away and Mikey tugged Frank toward building L. “How do you do that?”

“Your mom spent all winter break checking me out,” Mikey said. “How could I not take advantage?”

Frank shuddered in disgust. Familiar faces passed and he waved, walking down the weaving path with Mikey close and his suitcase rolling quietly behind him. There was a thin layer of shimmering snow on the quad, a snowman planted at the entrance of the K street dorm, sophomores outside of O street braving the cold for a smoke.

“Why do people keep asking me if I’ve broken up with Pete yet?” Mikey asked when they stopped for Frank to open the door to the building. Mikey took his suitcase.

“We have a pool going,” Frank said. “Well, we have a few. It’s an elaborate network.”

“That’s shitty.”

“Who’s the bottom?”

“Oh, Pete. Totally.”

“Dewees owes me a beer.”

They were laughing when they got to the top of the steps. Down the hall, chatter could be heard from under L325.

“Ray here yet?” Frank asked.

“He went somewhere with Gerard,” said Mikey. Frank nodded.

In the suite, Dewees and Pete sat on the couch watching Batman and Robin. Mikey rolled Frank’s suitcase into the hallway and smiled at Pete slyly. Pete stood up and approached them but walked past an expectant Frank to take Mikey into his arms and start an excessive make out session.

“You saw each other ten minutes ago!” Dewees shouted. Frank rolled his eyes and plopped down on the couch, resting his head in Dewees’ lap.

“Hi,” Frank said. Dewees smiled and poked Frank’s nose.

“Gabe’s over there already with his Few by Robin crew or whatever,” Dewees said. Frank chuckled. They heard a thump when Pete crowded Mikey against the wall, Mikey raising a leg to wrap around Pete’s hip. “We’ve, uh, commandeered the Humanities building lecture hall and we’re gonna get wasted.”

“Cool. Let me just put my stuff away.”

Frank strolled by the happy couple (their stamina was as impressive as it was gross) with his suitcase, wheeled it through his bedroom door and let it fall back carelessly, then poked Pete and Mikey’s shoulders until they stepped away from the door. Frank held it open for Dewees to rush out then glared at Pete.

“Hi how was your break you look great we’re gonna stay behind a bit,” Pete said.

Mikey smiled the biggest, goofiest smile and mouthed, _Sorry_ , as Pete tugged him down the hall of the suite. When Frank met up with Dewees by the stairs, they exchanged a look.

“They are _rabbits_ ,” Dewees said.

It’s astonishing how four and a half months ago Frank had no idea how to navigate this place and now he knew the secret side entrance for the Humanities building that led straight to a stage door. He and Dewees got there in a few minutes and they opened the door to an excited uproar. A couple dozen people were scattered about. Some Frank had seen during the winter break, some he wished he’d seen, and some he’d be okay with not seeing at all. Case in point, Gerard. He was on the stage with Ray resting in his lap and an arm possessively across Ray’s chest. Frank rolled his eyes away from the couple and meandered through the rows until he got to Gabe. There were various MP3s blasting different kinds of music and Gabe’s iPod on Alex Suarez’s head was playing Madonna.

“Booze?” Gabe said, handing Frank a wine cooler.

“Booze,” Frank said, grinning, laying half on Gabe.

For a few hours, there were the standard list of questions from various little cliques: “how was your break?; what’d you do?; what classes are you taking?; are you fucking anyone?” Frank wandered aimlessly between groups, first insisting to William Beckett that psychology is the best thing ever, then telling Pete’s friends in Fall Out Boy that he had a shitty winter break honestly, and finally ruefully letting Gerard know that he was indeed on the market. When Mikey and Pete finally showed up, they were teased about being cuddling types. And then Mikey stole Frank and a corner of the stage to have their own cuddle session.

“I love my friends,” Frank said, looking around at the laid back group of people that sat scattered around the lecture hall.

“We love you too,” Mikey said, kissing the back of Frank’s neck.

Pete was looking at them, not subtly at all, and Frank wondered whether he should feel guilty.

***

Frank had class with Pete on Tuesdays and Fridays which he suspected would be awkward. They were sitting at desks in the back of the class while the professor wrote on the board a group of algebraic equations for the class to work on in pairs. Sometimes college felt like a bad joke. Pete was the suitemate Frank was least close to and after the debacles of last semester Frank expected their already weak friendship would wither away and die. It turned out, however, that Frank was underestimating Pete’s ability to save face and play nice.

“I actually kinda like math?” Pete said conversationally. He was already done with his portion of the assigned problems and Frank was only a few in. “I mean, I’m definitely better with words but there’s always a right answer in math. It’s comforting.”

“I just need to be able to count to four on repeat to be in a band so…” Frank murmured. Math wasn’t hard, it was just boring as hell. He was a little awed that Pete could turn just about anything into poetry.

When the professor got the attention of the class again and started up about irrational numbers and improper fractions, Frank bit his lip and looked at Pete nervously. Pete, surprisingly studious, didn’t notice as he was taking notes on the lecture. So Frank wrote on the margin of the page he was on and elbowed Pete’s arm until he tore his eyes from the board. Frank gestured to the note on the page and Pete furrowed his brow at it.

_Are you mad about the other night? About how close me and Mikey were/are?_

Frank studied Pete’s reaction carefully. Frank was set on having a drama-free semester and he knew how Pete just sort of attracted negativity. He didn’t want to be a part of that again. Pete rolling his eyes seemed like a good sign, Frank hoped, and Pete scratched a response under Frank’s note before returning his attention to the lecture.

_Mikey’s a very affectionate dude. I get it. You’re his best friend. As long as you don’t make out or blow him, we’re fine._

Frank sighed, thinking he’d dodged a bullet and resisting the strong urge to joke and ask whether they could exchange hand jobs. But 10 minutes later as they were leaving the classroom, Pete grabbed Frank by his coat sleeve and dragged him to some snow-covered patch of grass next to the Sciences building.

“Should I be worried?” Pete asked.

“About what?” Frank said.

“Mikey. I mean, he could have anyone. Anyone can take a kiss on the neck like he gave you as meaning something else. You know, I don’t think he’s aware of what he does to people.”

Pete fiddled with his fingers and looked at his shoes. He was the most insecurely vain motherfucker Frank knew and it was mind-boggling.

“I’m not going to fuck him,” Frank said. “But, you know, he is fucking gone for you.”

Pete nodded but he still seemed unsure. Here Frank had two friends that were totally in love and there were still issues of trust and insecurity hanging over their heads. It struck Frank that it would never be simple, this pursuit of romance, and he wondered about what Ray would do if Frank just told him that he still liked him. Frank hooked arms with Pete and dragged him toward the food court, promising Pete that he would not be the reason for any breakups this year. Pete just laughed.

***

This semester, due to schedule conflicts, it was decided that family dinner would be held on Wednesdays. The boys went the easy route, as they normally do, and ordered pizza. Pepperoni for the murderers, vegetarian for the saints, and pineapple for Pete because he was a freak.

“You’re all missing out,” Pete said, folding a slice in half and taking a huge bite out of it.

The six boys of suite L325 sat around the coffee table in the common area, united and with no one else around for the first time in over a month. Frank was leaning against the couch between Gabe and Dewees with Ray, Bob, and Pete on the other side of the table. The standard “how was your break?” had been relentlessly exhausted and nothing else was really going on so they sat quietly, with Gabe’s laptop softly playing some kind of salsa music from the chair. He insisted it was for his music theory class but the way he wiggled in his seat suggested otherwise.

“So Gerard’s roommate transferred,” Ray said after a stretch of silence. Frank rolled his eyes.

“Okay, so you have his room all to yourself until someone gets pulled in,” Frank said, trying not to imagine what they’d get up to with that freedom. He didn’t care if anyone suspected about his feelings; the only person that mattered already knew, kind of. “Congrats.”

“We were thinking about…me getting pulled in.”

The look Ray gave Frank was one of worry and he was quite right to be worried. Frank chuckled humorlessly. He had never heard a dumber idea in his life. Move in with Gerard? Was that a joke?

“You can’t do that,” Frank said simply. No one responded and Frank looked around his group of suitemates. They were staring at him warily, their attention seemingly hinging on his reaction. “I mean because then _we’d_ have to pull someone in and that would set this group dynamic out of whack.”

“Did you hear about Meyer’s sex scandal?” Gabe butt in. “Apparently she’s grading her dance advisees on their pussy-eating skills.”

Frank elbowed Gabe’s side and he grunted as everyone else laughed. “Come on,” Frank insisted. “You guys really think it’s a good idea for Ray to move in with his boyfriend, to where all the juniors live? And what about Dewees?” Frank gestured at Dewees and thankfully all eyes were on him now. “A stranger is going to move in here,” Frank finished, feeling he’d made his point very clear as he picked up his pizza again.

Dewees cleared his throat. “I mean, we’d hate for you to leave but if that’s what you wanna do and you thought about how hard it would be to live with him—” Dewees began, much to Frank’s chagrin.

“We’ve talked about it a lot,” Ray said with a nod. Dewees shrugged.

“Then it’s your decision.”

“No!” Frank snapped, dropping his pizza on the plate. “No way! You’re… You can’t just…”

Ray was the only one paying attention to his outburst now, the others having murmured side conversations and eating, and Frank grasped for straws. He sighed.

“I’m the only one with a problem with this, aren’t I?” Frank said.

“Yeah…” said Bob, shrugging.

“Wow. Fuck. You guys are twisted. Your relationship with Gerard has been on a tight rope before. Good fucking luck.”

Feeling embarrassed, stupid, and a little like a selfish drama queen, Frank picked up his plate and turned to leave. He heard someone following him and as hard as he wished it was someone other than Ray, he knew it was inevitable. Frank opened the door to his bedroom and a hand on his shoulder turned him to face Ray.

“I know things have been tense between us—” Ray began, softly as to not let the others hear. Because they didn’t know. Frank promised not to tell.

“You strung me along and crawled back to him the second you got the chance,” Frank said, furrowing his brow. He was whispering too but it came out as more of a hiss. The rest of the suite was talking loudly enough now that they probably weren’t paying attention but better safe than sorry. For Ray.

“I didn’t mean for you to get hurt,” Ray murmured.

“What did you mean, then? For it to be a few meaningless fucks like it was for you?”

“It wasn’t—”

“Well they weren’t meaningless fucks for me. My bad. I like, I liked you, and you just wanted a sex toy until Gerard changed his mind about keeping you.”

Frank stomped into his room, lowering his plate onto his already cluttered desk and running his fingers through his hair furiously. Winter break wasn’t entirely uneventful. About a week in, Ray drove out to Frank’s house whining about Gerard and how their relationship was weak, unstable. They hung out and talked and they were alone in Frank’s room dozens of miles away from Gerard. Frank remembered those couple weeks pretty damn fondly. Sex with Ray was better than he thought it would be. They never really labeled it. It just sort of happened. Until Gerard wanted Ray back and Ray wanted to pretend it never happened.

“I’m not his property and I never thought of you as mine,” Ray said through gritted teeth, standing just inside Frank’s room.

“You always go back,” Frank said, chuckling and rolling his eyes. “Like a sad fucking puppy! Not even the cute kind.”

“I’m nervous about moving in with him and I was hoping—”

“I’d convince you to stay? No, by all means, go. He can’t possibly kick you to the curb if he’s forced to see you every morning. This’ll fix everything! And you won’t have to honor me with your dick when you guys split up again, just because I conveniently live down the hall.”

Frank was raising his voice now and he didn’t even care. He was so bitter about this stupid love triangle but he couldn’t get over this guy. Ray crowded Frank against the desk, a flush rising on his face.

“You’re being an asshole,” Ray whispered.

“Does your perfect boyfriend know you like getting fucked up yours?” Frank said in his normal voice, staring at Ray up and down. Not at all caring who heard beyond the open bedroom door. “Do you beg him to touch you there like you begged me? Can he make you fall apart like I do? Or are you still too scared to speak up for yourself?”

Ray chuckled and shook his head. He turned away and slammed the door shut behind him as he left the room. Frank dragged the chair from under his desk with force brought on by some residual anger. He sat down and ate his pizza, ignoring Bob’s “is everything alright?” text.

***

The next day, Frank divulged the new argument to Mikey. He knew about everything that happened over winter break, of course, so he had an opinion ready. They were in the Liberal Arts building, searching for Mikey’s adviser.

“Honestly, after seeing them together on and off all winter I was not feeling the Rayrard,” Mikey said. He walked up two steps at a time with his long legs and Frank had to jog to keep up.

Frank stopped at the second floor, breathless. “Gray?” he suggested. Rayrard didn’t exactly roll off the tongue.

Mikey stopped to think about it for a moment. “Rayrard,” he decided. He continued up the stairs. Frank followed.

“Whatever. Why not?

“Ray deserves better.”

Frank’s eyebrows went up and he smiled. “Really?”

“Gerard is possessive as hell,” Mikey confided. “Always has been, about everything. He hasn’t left the toddler stage. Same with Ray. I think that’s why it was so easy for Ray to cheat. Ray’s a good guy but Gerard is suffocating.”

They stepped out into that hall and Mikey stomped forward. Frank wondered how bored he’d been that he agreed to follow Mikey to his advising meeting.

“And here I thought it was because I was irresistible,” Frank quipped.

Mikey stopped outside an office door. “That too,” he said before entering. Frank grinned.

***

That Friday, Fall Out Boy and My Chemical Romance had their first co-headlining show at the Dent. They tossed a coin to see who was up first and this month it would be My Chem. Oh well. They drove Gerard’s old white van to the parking lot of the Dent and started dragging things into the corner room where the shows would be.

They’d practiced a couple times without Bob over the winter break and just once since getting back on campus for the spring semester. Every time, Frank and Gerard pointedly ignored each other. It wasn’t a conscious effort, at least not on Frank’s part, but it was tense and a little awkward between them. Once the five of them were in the room and setting up, Bob spoke up.

“You know, this band is never going to work out if people in it don’t like each other,” he said.  
Frank looked at Gerard, who was setting up his mic stand. And so did everyone else. Gerard seemed a little taken aback when he raised his gaze to find his band mates scrutinizing him.

“I don’t dislike anyone in this band,” he said, shooting Frank a wary glance.

“Hey, remember when I blew your boyfriend?” Frank said, grinning. Gerard locked his jaw.

“I swear to God…” Ray murmured as he tuned his guitar. Frank’s own hung on his shoulder and behind him. Gerard froze with his fingers on the stand, waiting to adjust its height.

“You…are a great performer,” Gerard said to Frank directly. Frank’s smile faltered. “You put a lot of effort into this band and energy into each show. You’re even better than Mikey at getting the word out, which is saying something considering he has 5000 friends on his Facebook.”

“4357,” Mikey corrected, strumming his bass. 

“My point is that…” Gerard went on, “I appreciate you as a member of this band and I don’t want any old beef to affect it.”

Frank couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He looked around, perplexed by Gerard’s change in attitude about Frank. He never thought Gerard would acknowledge him with anything but bitterness, let alone compliment his character.

“Did anyone get that on tape?” Frank murmured.

“Just tune your damn guitar,” Gerard said as he finished adjusting his mic stand.

The show went off without a hitch. It was probably the first time people sang along, which was mind-blowing. Frank, again, broke into the crowd while playing and they pushed him back, onto Gerard, who held him close with his head to his chest. It was kind of weird but Frank seemed to have turned into the rag doll that flirts with all his bandmates on stage: he sang forehead-to-forehead with Mikey, humped his guitar while on his knees in front of Ray, and made the most uncomfortably orgasmic faces at Bob. It was unnecessary and hilarious and fun and Frank was admittedly hard afterward.

Frank sat at the top of the bleachers while Fall Out Boy set up. During their set, he released all his excess energy in the mosh pit. After their set and when everyone was clearing out of the room, the coordinator for concerts at the Dent, a senior named Brian Schechter, gathered both bands together for some news.

“So we all know about Savage Festival, right?” Brian said.

“The arts festival in April?” said Pete. “Hell yes!”

“Well, the higher-ups said I could invite one of your bands to play the concert portion on the great lawn so…impress me over the semester and we’ll see who gets the gig.”

The nine boys of My Chemical Romance and Fall Out Boy stared at him in disbelief at first. Then they started arguing amongst themselves about which band was better and who would get the slot at the festival. Brian just chuckled and walked away, no idea of the rivalry he’d just reignited.

***

“If you get shot in your torso or head, it’s a death. In your limbs, it’s an injury. Three injuries in a row are a death, three deaths and you’re out of the game. You have to go to the lecture hall if you’re out and we’ll meet there when it’s all over. You cannot shoot when you’re out. The team with the least deaths at the end of the hour wins. Got it?”

Everyone stared at Pete with varying amounts of confusion in their expressions.

“This is the most organized fun I’ve had since kindergarten,” said Frank.

Various members of the suite, bands, and the Fueled by Ramen crew were gathered at the Humanities building lobby. They all carried loaded Nerf guns and wore shirts that were blue, red, or green. Frank wore blue, along with Mikey, Brendon, Victoria, and Patrick. Pete headed the green team with Ray, Gerard, Joe, and Alex. Dewees was red with Bob, Andy, Ryland Blackinton, and Spencer Smith. Andy reiterated the rules. Then the teams scattered throughout the building. It would start at 9PM on the dot. The blue team went to the north side of the second floor.

“I’ll take Ray down,” said Frank.

Brendon made a sound of indignation. “Before or after you suck his dick?” he said.

“Don’t start with me, Urine.”

“We should probably split up to cover more ground,” said Patrick. “Mikey, you head downstairs with Victoria. Brendon, third floor. I’ll get the second floor with Frank.”

Once 9PM came around, the war was on. Patrick and Frank tip-toed down the hall together. Shouts and laughter could be heard from every corner of the building. Frank wondered if everyone had totally bailed out of the second floor until he felt that familiar foamy stab on his shoulder. His first death.

“Son of a bitch!” Frank shouted, turning in a crouch.

Ryland ran around a corner and Patrick zoomed after him. Frank picked up his new ammo and startled at the shots behind him. He dodged Ray’s shots and shot him back a few times in the leg, then ran for it.

More showdowns like this happened until Frank had two deaths and two injuries. He glided down the dark hallways of the third floor, turning quickly around corners. He saw someone sitting on the floor against the wall and shot immediately before running back around the corner.

“I’m already out,” Ray said.

Frank turned around. He walked back around the corner. Ray waved from his spot on the floor, a meek smile on his face. There were little Nerf bullets scattered on the floor near him, his gun a foot away.

“Tough break,” Frank said. He walked over. “You’re supposed to go downstairs.”

“Got tired,” Ray said. He patted the floor next to him.

Frank kneeled there. “So how was your team holding up?”

“Alright, considering.” Ray frowned and took a deep breath. “Listen. I’m sorry about trying to trick you into groveling at my feet to stay in the suite.”

Frank rolled his eyes. “I’m sorry for reminding you I’m the best fuck you ever had,” he said.

Ray smirked. He reached a hand over and tugged on Frank’s hair, which was starting to get unruly and obnoxiously long. He bit his lip and Frank imagined some romantic army movie. All they needed was a kiss and an inevitable betrayal which, despite being suspicious of, Frank did not see coming once he was distracted by the intense look on Ray’s eyes. Ray grabbed the gun in Frank’s lap, easily taking it from his grasp, and grabbed his own. Frank didn’t stand a chance.

In the end, the green team won due to their nasty tactics. (Pete used a similar evil trick on Mikey.) The group agreed to do this again some other Monday and then dispersed for homework and bumming around time. Seeing Gerard kiss Ray goodbye was still super annoying to Frank.

***

A few days later was the end of roommate swap week which meant Ray should be gone, or almost gone. Frank rushed to his dorm after class, leaving Pete in the dust, and sat in the hallway next to Ray’s bedroom door with his back to one wall and his feet against the other. Roommates came and went but it wasn’t until Frank had all but finished an entire reading assignment that Ray walked over, pausing in front of Frank.

“Need help taking your shit to Gerard’s van?” Frank asked, a slight smile on his face.

“I’m staying,” Ray said, rolling his eyes.

Relief filled Frank’s chest but he made sure not to let it show. “Good,” he said, going back to the textbook in his lap.

“Not because of you.”

It was Frank’s turn to roll his eyes. Ray stepped over him to unlock his bedroom door and enter.

“Do you really think I’m that arrogant to think that?” Frank called as Ray disappeared into his room.

“Yes,” Ray called back. He stuck his head out of the room and looked down at Frank, who had his eyes narrowed. “I just… I really couldn’t leave this suite.”

Ray shrugged. He sighed when Frank smirked. With a roll of his eyes, he went back into his room.

“So, I’m at least part of the reason,” Frank said.

“Just one fifth!”

Frank stood up, holding his textbook close to his chest. He meandered over to his bedroom door with a little smile on his face.

“That’s good enough for me,” he said, before letting the door slam shut behind him.

***

During the week there were classes and most of the weekend was for partying, so Sundays were pretty reserved for homework. Bob was sitting at his desk with a pair of headphones hanging around his neck, playing with some audio software for a class. Frank was reading Hemingway from a handout and hating every second. Suddenly there was a thumping sound next to his ear and he looked to his right with a furrowed brow.

“What the heck is that?” Bob said, looking at the wall.

“I think it’s…” Frank started.

Before he could say what he was thinking, the sounds of moans and giggling were heard from the slightly open window behind Frank’s bed. In the winter, the thermostat was at full blast and only the administration had control over the heating so the poor freshmen had to balance out the temperature by opening the windows just a crack. The only problem was the fact that sounds carried pretty easily across adjacent windows. Frank turned to Bob with his eyebrows high, a small smile on his face as the pleased little moans became more consistent. Frank recognized at least one of those moans.

“I’m really bummed out that we share a wall with Pete’s room,” Bob said, rolling his eyes.

Frank threw his stapled packet on the ground and turned over onto his back. He hadn’t had sex in about a month and damn it if Pete and Mikey weren’t two of the hottest fuckers Frank knew. Hearing them together lent itself to imagining them together and it was hotter than porn.

“Listen to them go, man,” Frank said. He spread his legs slightly, squirming as he touched the inside of his thighs. Bob’s eyes narrowed as his eyes followed the movement of Frank’s hands. “Hey, would you mind if I masturbated?”

“You think I haven’t heard you masturbate before?” Bob murmured. He rolled his eyes.

“You’re such a good sport,” Frank said, undoing his jeans. Bob turned back to his computer screen, placing the headphones on his ears. Frank moved his jeans and underwear passed his hips and pulled his half-hard cock out.

Frank knew he’d exceeded even his own personal levels of creepy but he couldn’t help it. He fisted himself languidly, closing his eyes and just focusing on the sounds Pete and Mikey were making. He reached for the lotion on top of his dresser and squeezed a liberal amount onto his palm as their moans got more desperate. He followed their cue, grinned when Pete swore, and came quicker than he would’ve liked, whimpering and moaning as he came all over his fist.

“Was it good for you, Frank?” Mikey called and Frank’s eyes shot open in horror as laughter floated over.

Frank cleaned his fingers with some shirt hanging off his bed frame, tucked himself away, then hurriedly closed the window shut. He blushed from embarrassment, still feeling awesome from his orgasm. He fell back on his bed, feeling sated and a little dirty, and just stared at the ceiling with wide eyes. He also wondered, meekly, just how far Pete and Mikey have gone. Pete’s internalized homophobia was not a big secret.

“What the hell was that?” Bob complained, taking off his headphones and looking over at Frank. Maybe he closed the window too hard. Well, there were other things to think about.

“Would you ever fuck a dude?” Frank asked. He propped himself up on his elbows and smirked at his roommate.

Bob responded with an eye roll. “I have,” he said. Frank’s eyebrows reached for his hairline.

“That wasn’t my question but wow.”

“You’ve unknowingly lived in the same room as a bisexual for months.”

“You’re a gem,” Frank said, smiling like a moron and shrugging his shoulders happily. You think you know a guy.

A knock on the door brought Frank out of his thoughts. It opened a second later and there was Ray, looking adorable as hell in Bugs Bunny pajama pants and a black t-shirt.

“Hey, um…” Ray said, looking between Bob and Frank. He waved his cellphone at them. “Mikey told me to ask you something?”

Frank clenched his jaw. “What?” he said. Ray looked at his phone screen and read aloud.

“‘Which one of your friends DON’T you masturbate to?’”

Ray looked at his phone in confusion as Bob, as well as Mikey and Pete next door, laughed heartily. Frank groaned and wrapped himself up in his blankets, blush deepening.

***

“So you guys aren’t…fucking?” Frank whispered.

Mikey stood up straight with a couple beers for them both and kicked the refrigerator door closed. He shook his head and tossed Frank one of the beers.

“Still firmly situated on second base,” Mikey said.

They meandered into the living room where Gerard was playing D&D with two of his roommates, Adam and Geoff, and two of Frank’s roommates, Ray and Gabe. Pete and Dewees were playing Mario Kart. It was family dinner night and since Gerard’s roommates also had something called family game night, they decided to join forces and have an epic Family Night in Gerard’s apartment on E street. Bob and Gerard’s last roommate, Max, had drawn the short straws and been forced to go out to the parking lot to pick up the take out. Mikey walked over to Pete and draped himself on his lap, distracting him from the game by looking damn delectable and offering him the beer. Frank sat on the floor by Dewees’ feet, the perfect place to contemplate how annoyed Pete looked with Mikey distracting him and how content Ray looked sitting in Gerard’s lap behind the dining table.

When the front door to the apartment opened to Max and Bob with bags of Italian food, there was a huge cheer. The games were paused and hungry young men stared at Bob and Max like madmen. They lowered the bags onto the floor and Max started handing out aluminum and plastic containers, utensils and sauces flying this way and that. Frank got his garlic rolls and butter and settled on the couch happily while the rest ravished the coffee table.

“For the people that didn’t give us exact change,” Bob said, pulling out his wallet. “Seven fifty for lizard boy, two twenty-five for Gabe, and three for Sexy Way.”

Adam, Gabe, and Mikey got their change. Pete looked a little appalled while Mikey shot Bob a pleased smirk.

“Did you just call Mikey sexy?” Pete said. Mikey sat in his lap, cautiously opening their container of fettuccini.

“Just stating the facts,” Bob said with a chuckle.

“Why do you take offense to that?” Mikey said. “You’re dating a mighty fine piece of ass.”

His amused smile faltered when he saw Pete’s expression. They started whispering harshly to each other from the opposite corner of the couch. Frank looked away. Mikey will tell him later.

Ray sat by Frank’s feet, facing him. He poked Frank’s shin with the back of his fork and grinned. Gerard was sitting at the dining table discussing strategy with Gabe, Adam, and Geoff.

“What’d you get?” Ray said, lifting ravioli to his mouth.

“Garlic rolls,” Frank said, ogling the four rolls standing in the carton.

“That’s it?”

“Those are the best fucking garlic rolls in the world,” Max said. Frank vigorously nodded his agreement. “Damn, I should’ve gotten garlic rolls.”

“Can I try one?” Ray said, already reaching. Frank smacked his hand and looked at him with the strongest look of contempt possible.

“No,” Frank said, appalled. “These are _my_ lightly roasted loaves of heaven.”

“Don’t be so stingy.”

“I’ll give you one if you gimme a kiss.”

Ray rolled his eyes. Frank beamed. It was meant to be a joke, of course, but Frank’s voice was a little too loud and other conversation had reached a lull. So all eyes were on him or Ray. Frank looked at Gerard, who was staring at Ray thoughtfully. All eyes moved to Gerard and he seemed startled by the attention. He poked at his food and cleared his throat.

“Go for it,” Gerard said. Frank’s eyes widened. He glanced at Ray, who was looking at Gerard questioningly. “Hey, I’d do just about anything for a good garlic roll and _those_ garlic rolls are really fucking good.”

“This’ll be entertaining,” Geoff said, leaning back in his chair.

Ray put his food on the coffee table and got up on his knees. He looked at Frank’s lips like he was hungry…which he was, but that’s beside the point. He was just the right height and the couch was just low enough that when Frank leaned over he wasn’t uncomfortable. He was uncomfortable knowing so many pairs of eyes were on him but one of them was Ray’s so it was okay.

Ray held the back of Frank’s neck and guided Frank’s lips down to his. It was a bit sudden, not that Frank minded, and it had been a while since they’d kissed, so Frank moaned against Ray’s lips before kissing back. He heard one or two people chuckle at his evidently pleased sound. Frank lost all conscious awareness, and self-consciousness, and just kissed Ray. He snapped back to reality when he felt his container being reached into and looked down to find that Ray had taken a roll. He sat back down and grinned, taking a bite and mocking Frank’s little moan, and the laughter wasn’t hidden that time. Even Gerard laughed. Frank didn’t know what to make of it.

“Okay, but I’m having some of your ravioli,” Frank said. He couldn’t really hide that he was flustered. Ray gave Frank his container and Frank didn’t eat until the previously paused conversations had been started up again. Best spinach ravioli ever.

***

Between classes and Mikey being with Pete nearly 24/7, Frank rarely got one-on-one time with his best friend anymore. They both needed it so Mikey went to Frank’s double while Bob and Pete were in class. They laid on Frank’s bed, Mikey half on top of him as he murmured against Frank’s chest. Even with Pete not around, however, conversations seemed to veer toward Mikey’s relationship.

“It’s just so annoying how insecure he is,” Mikey said. Frank rubbed his back. “I mean, he’s got me. How am I supposed to stop him from being jealous of every other person that gives me a compliment? Shit, I don’t have very high self-esteem and I like getting compliments but now I feel shitty and guilty about it and that’s not fair. I’ve literally done nothing.”

“I don’t know what to tell you,” Frank said. He kissed the top of Mikey’s head which seemed to relax him for a moment before he tensed up and started talking again.

“And he has all these weird commitment issues? I mean, I offered to have him over during spring break since his family’s tight for money and he might not be able to fly out to Chicago. But he said he wasn’t ready to meet my parents? What the fuck? And he won’t even call me his boyfriend in front of people. I just…”

Mikey pulled away from their embrace and hugged his knees. He stared across the room, his face void of any expression that might betray the relationship struggles he’d just divulged to his friend. He did that sometimes, Frank had noticed. Just checked right out. Frank sat against the wall and rested his head on Mikey’s shoulder.

“So what do you think about Gerard letting me make out with Ray?” Frank asked. He knew Mikey needed to get away from whatever he was thinking or feeling and this was a way to do it.

“Maybe it was a test,” Mikey murmured in a monotone. “He’s enough of a piece of shit to pull that.”

Frank giggled. Mikey turned to him and gave him a small smile.

“You need to get over your crush, dude, seriously,” Mikey said.

“You don’t have a say in what the heart wants,” Frank said. Mikey smacked Frank’s chest, making him giggle again.

“Whatever. Anyway, roommate selection for next year is coming up and—”

“I would LOVE to be your roommate next year, you hunk o’ hotness.”

“Awesome sauce!”

“Is that really a thing that you say, dude, because I strongly discourage it.”

When there was a knock on the door, they both shouted, “Come in!” It opened and Ray was standing on the threshold, smiling meekly at Frank.

“Can I talk to you about something?” Ray said.

He exchanged a meaningful look with Mikey, prompting Mikey to hop off the bed. Mikey used some weird gestures and lip movements to indicate that he’ll be waiting in the common area, then weaved around Ray and disappeared.

“Sure,” Frank said, furrowing his brow but smiling at his friend’s antics.

He scooted down to the edge of his tall bed as Ray walked in, closing the door behind him. Frank smiled, swinging his legs, not sure what to expect but definitely not expecting the way Ray’s fingers raked up his inner thighs before stopping at his hips. Frank curled his back, caught the intense look in Ray’s eyes for barely a second, and finally had his lips against his. Frank grabbed Ray’s arms and urged him closer, kissing him with all the stupid want he’d been feeling since September. Ray surged forward, making Frank almost fall back, and Frank moaned, wanting to be closer but being unable from this position. When their lips broke apart, Ray just looked at Frank with a strangely expectant expression on his face. Eyebrows up and all.

“Nice talk,” Frank said breathlessly. “Did you get Gerard’s permission for that one?”

“Uh, yes,” Ray said. Frank narrowed his eyes. “Me and Gerard made a deal. An open relationship, if you will. We can be with whoever we want as long as the other knows and approves.”

For half a second Frank liked the idea but he quickly hated it. Ray drew circles on Frank’s hips, looking down nervously. Frank liked the little touch, but the insinuation of what Ray had just said grated his nerves.

“I’m supposed to take this as good news,” Frank said. Ray nodded. Frank shoved him away by his shoulders. “I’m not waiting around for your dick, you arrogant piece of shit.”

“Really?” Ray said, fingers hooked around Frank’s knees. Frank nodded exaggeratedly. “Because it’s no secret that Matt wants you.”

“Doesn’t mean I want him back!” Frank said.

Ray leaned down, nosing Frank’s collarbone. Frank leaned as far away as he could. “I like you,” Ray said, voice raspy in an obnoxiously sexy way, “…and you like me.”

This was true and sex with Ray was great, but Frank wasn’t letting go of the fact that Ray was insinuating that their having Gerard’s permission for them to have sex should make him happy; this was probably the most offensive thing he’d ever been told.

“You can’t walk in here with a permission slip from your boyfriend and get me to bend over,” Frank said, pulling Ray away from his throat by his hair.

“You always do this,” Ray said, smacking Frank’s hand away. His fingers lingered at Frank’s knees.

“What?”

“Get angry. Turn things into a fight. Yeah, I wanna fuck you.” Ray pulled Frank down to the very edge of the bed, so that only his ass was still on the mattress, and got them chest to chest. Frank hooked his legs around Ray’s hips helplessly, arms flailing for purchase and stopping at Ray’s shoulders. “I wanna kiss you,” Ray went on. Frank instinctively turned his head and Ray’s lips planted on his cheek. “I wanna touch you…” Ray’s hands moved up his legs and Frank tensed. “I wanna make you moan…” Under the shirt, scratching Frank’s sides, making him whimper with just the way Ray’s voice changed. “I wanna hear you say my name when you’re out of breath.” Frank whimpered more when Ray’s nails teased his nipples, teeth marking his collarbone. “I wanna see you covered in sweat and shaking.”

Ray knew what to say to get Frank going, sure, and the next time Ray reached for a kiss, Frank responded with need. But as much as he wanted it he didn’t want to want it and he pushed Ray gently away.

“Not like this,” Frank said, regretting it a little. Ray pulled away and Frank sat back properly again.

“I know it’s unconventional but this way everybody’s happy,” Ray said. He smirked. “You always look like a sad puppy. The cute kind but sad nonetheless.”

Frank took a deep breath. “Do you really think I’m happy being your second choice?”

“Think about it. Okay?”

As Ray walked away, Frank fell back on his bed. A few seconds later, Mikey returned. He hopped back onto the bed, playing big spoon for the curled up lump of teenage boy that was Frank, and nosed the back of his neck.

“So how’s that love triangle treatin’ ya?” he asked. Frank smacked Mikey’s stomach and covered his eyes. Mikey laughed.

***

An old family friend with three divorces already under her belt invited Frank’s family to her lame Valentine’s Day wedding. Frank liked being home to spend time with his parents but when that time was spent sitting between them in a church basement and having them argue across the table, he was just exhausted. Not to mention that he’d seen his ex, Ernest, at the ceremony. Frank looked dapper in his suit and was easily distracted for his own protection. In order to avoid the common line of questioning at the reception (“how’s college?; what do you want to do when you’re older?; are you still gay?”), Frank danced with the kiddies while their parents drank and gossiped. A little girl in a cute dress balanced on his shoes, another wanted to be swung around, a boy asked him to teach him how to waltz.

“Okay, Frankie needs a break,” Frank said, raising his hands after his fourth straight song. The kids pouted and dispersed. Parents smiled and gave Frank thumbs up from their tables as he walked passed them to his family’s table. His mother had disappeared to speak with the bride and his father was nowhere in sight. He sat in front of his apple cider and took deep breaths.

“May I?” said a familiar voice, the man sitting before Frank had the chance to respond.

It was Ernest. Frank couldn’t help but look at him and stare, after having not seen him in almost two years. His hair was buzz cut, his smile was as bright and enticing as ever, and when he spoke Frank was mesmerized. Immediately following that feeling were nerves as Ernest leaned forward and brushed his fingers on the back of Frank’s hand.

“Frankie,” Ernest said, “how are you? I haven’t heard from you in a while. Did you forget how to write or use a phone?”

“I’ve been busy,” Frank said, avoiding eye contact. Was he in the middle of a nightmare? He wished he could say he’d stopped writing to cut Ernest out of his life but if it wasn’t apparent from the action alone than Frank didn’t know what to do. “How’s, uhm, the army and shit?”

“I kind of wish I’d taken the safe route and gone to college like you. New York, huh?”

“Scholarship.”

Ernest nodded. “Very nice.”

Frank swelled with pride at the realization that Ernest seemed so proud. He glanced up and Ernest beamed at him, scooting his chair closer. Frank leaned away from him. No, he wasn’t supposed to be happy about Ernest being here. Why was he feeling so weirdly hopeful? Frank took a sip of his cider, confused beyond measure.

“I’m gonna be in town for a few weeks,” Ernest said, hooking his fingers possessively around Frank’s wrist. Frank tensed at the hold. “I was thinking we could pick up where we left off?”

And Ernest leaned in to kiss Frank, alarming him. They were in the basement of a church. They broke up almost two years ago. This was insane. This wasn’t happening. Frank turned his head away just in time, feeling increasingly nervous. “I’d rather not,” he murmured. He looked away when Ernest’s grip tightened. Anyone looking in their direction was doing so with presumptuous looks of bigotry on their faces to match their church-ready outfits.

“Why?” Ernest practically hissed.

“Do you remember…how you left me?”

Frank was suddenly out of breath and there were tremors in his hands. He couldn’t make eye contact. He just remembered being too scared to sleep or eat because Ernest told him to be awake at night in case he needed him, told him he was too fat to be with him. Frank remembered being depressed because he dedicated so much emotionally to this guy that pinpointed him as the reason for every bad thing in his life. His parents thought he was anorexic or suicidal, which weren’t far from the truth, and on the occasion that he had to explain away bruises he just let them make their assumptions about bullies. The school administration investigated while Ernest told Frank he deserved worse.

“You were a wreck because I moved away,” Ernest said. It was partly true. Despite it all, Frank had become disturbingly dependent and he was as needy when Ernest left as he was physically wrecked. But Frank didn’t want to admit it.

“I was a wreck because you—” Frank started to say, because enough meetings with counselors got ‘it wasn’t your fault’ drilled into his brain.

“What?” Ernest interrupted. “Because I what?” Frank shook his head. Nothing, nothing. Frank was looking down at his feet, eyes wide. Ernest let go of his wrist and brushed his hair out of his face. Frank flinched. He looked around for his parents, who seemed to be arguing in a corner.

“I was the best thing that ever happened to you,” Ernest said. Frank was inclined to disagree but if he just stayed quiet maybe Ernest would leave him alone. “Your parents were fighting, you were having a fucking existential crisis, and I was there for you. And how do you thank me? You fucking move to New York and forget me. I missed you so much, Frankie. You really fucking hurt me.”

A part of Frank knew it was all bullshit but it was aching in his chest to hear it all anyway. He looked away from his parents, who were making their way back to the table, and decided right then that he’d fix this. Ernest’s eyes were shining with rage or hurt or lust—there was never normally a difference when it came to him. Frank smiled a little and grabbed one of Ernest’s hands in both of his.

“I’m sorry,” Frank whispered, choked up. “We can…we can pick up where we left off, okay, just not here.”

Ernest’s disposition changed instantly and he grinned. “Good,” he said and, standing and turning to Frank’s parents, he added, “Mr. and Mrs. Iero! Nice to properly meet you, finally.

Always the charmer.

***

Frank woke up Monday morning trying not to think about how he woke up Sunday morning. He slept through his first class, which happens when you use alcohol to soften your self-hatred. He went through the motions: brush teeth, wash face, inspect bruises from sex with ex, stare angrily at self in mirror for giving in to that tool. Then he walked into the common area with an energy drink and a textbook.

Gabe and Ray were, of all things, playing a video game, shouts and gunshots bleeding through the television. They were fully clothed so Frank suspected he’d woken up later than he’d originally thought. Whatever. He stood against the wall and watched them; more specifically, watched Ray. He stared at the screen wide-eyed and open-mouthed, his large fingers moving deftly on the game controller. He grunted when Gabe shot him up, bit his lip and narrowed his eyes, and laughed at the screen when Gabe croaked. Ray was so cute and Frank found himself silently pining for him and how safe Ray made him feel and how he needed to feel safe again. He pondered the conversation they’d had before this weekend and cleared his throat to alert his suitemate of his presence. Ray looked up, smiled, and returned to the game. Gabe waved fleetingly.

“So you’re in an open relationship with Gerard,” Frank said. He wondered if it was okay to say it in front of Gabe but Ray didn’t falter in his gameplay so he assumed it was. Besides, Gabe Saporta was the king of non-monogamous relationships.

“Yeah,” Ray said.

“That means you can fuck me without getting in trouble.” Frank lowered his dumb textbook and empty can to the ground and stuck his thumbs inside his pajama pants.

“Yeah.”

“Wanna fuck me now?”

After a moment, the game paused. Gabe sucked his teeth and Ray looked at Frank with an unreadable expression on his face. “I’m…playing a—” Ray started to say but was interrupted by Gabe snatching his controller, unpausing the game, and clicking the button on the back that caused the batteries to fall out. He put the dismantled device on the coffee table and went on playing. Frank grinned.

“Was that necessary?” Ray said.

“You don’t pass up the opportunity to get laid,” Gabe said, eyes glued to the screen. “Even if it’s Frank.”

“I just…” Ray opened his mouth to speak and nothing came out. He turned to Frank, who now had half his hands passed his waistband and was stroking his own hips impatiently. “This is totally out of—”

“I’m gonna come in the next five minutes whether you’re involved or not,” Frank said. As he turned to leave, he heard Gabe chuckle and say, “Five minutes…” followed by steps following him to his room.

Frank held the door open for Ray. The moment he was inside, Frank grabbed him by his shirt and got on his tiptoes and kissed him. Ray barely reciprocated, hands on his biceps, and Frank brought him down by neck, making him moan in surprise. They kissed like that for a minute before Ray pulled Frank back by his biceps. Frank sighed as Ray rubbed his arms. He sensed best friend Ray, not fuck buddy Ray, and that just wouldn’t do.

“Are you okay?” Ray said, crossing his arms. Frank didn’t want to meet his eyes. So he looked down and thought about Ray’s naked hips through the layers of clothing and reached for the button of his jeans.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Frank said. Ray grabbed his wrists and pulled them apart, but not before Frank succeeded in opening his jeans. Frank crowded Ray’s hips with his own, resting his forehead against Ray’s shoulder.

“Bob said you got wasted in bed last night and wouldn’t talk to him,” Ray said. Frank squeezed his eyes shut and leaned up to kiss Ray’s neck but Ray took a step away.

Frank grabbed Ray’s wrist and pulled him close again, crowding him against the corner of Bob’s wardrobe, pulling him down by his neck again, kissing and sucking and needing to feel him and make him feel. He guided Ray’s hand down to his crotch, his dick was only half-hard, and grinded against him for a moment. Ray curled his fingers in Frank’s hair, sighing against his barrage of Ray’s throat, until he slowly pulled his hand away and used it to push Frank back. He had that Concerned Big Brother expression on his face and Frank groaned.

“What happened to wanting to make me sweat or whatever?” Frank asked. He was shaking, he needed Ray so bad. “All that sexy stuff?”

“Moment’s gone, Frank.”

“Well, make it happen again,” Frank said. He grabbed Ray’s hand and walked backward toward his bed but Ray held his ground halfway there and refused to move any further. Frank sighed as he hopped up on his bed, fell back. He got a hand between his legs and started rubbing up against it frantically. “Fuck, I need you to…”

He pushed his pajama pants down to the middle of his thighs—he wasn’t wearing any underwear—and started stroking himself. His mouth dropped open slowly and his eyes squeezed shut as he fucked into his own hand. He was so focused on getting off that he didn’t even hear Ray approach, just felt the dip of the mattress as Ray got on the bed. Frank kept his eyes shut as Ray replaced his hand on his cock. Frank stretched both his arms back, gripping the wooden bed frame as Ray stroked his cock teasingly slow.

“You’re really hard to resist,” Ray said begrudgingly.

Frank would’ve returned with a snappy response but suddenly Ray’s lips were on his cock, wet and warm, and Frank whimpered. He planted his feet firmly on the bed and rotated his hips upward, fucking into Ray’s mouth. Ray lifted Frank’s shirt and teased his nipples, forming a ring with two fingers of his other hand around Frank’s cock to stroke what he couldn’t reach. Frank moaned softly, the steady drag of Ray’s lips and tongue on his cock slowly building pleasure. He was so fucking good at deep-throating and he swallowed around Frank when he went down, licking a teasing strip when he went back up. Frank knew Ray was taking it slow because he knew Frank would want more so with that thought in mind, Frank reached for a dresser drawer. Frank’s hips stuttered when Ray hollowed his cheeks and started bobbing his head faster, Frank barely getting his hand around the tub of lube before groaning loudly.

Frank hit Ray’s shoulder with the lube until Ray pulled back. Ray grabbed it and Frank immediately took his shirt off. Ray looked at the lube and set it aside, lifting his own shirt over his head. Fuck yes. Frank was beyond horny now, he was hot all over and desperate to fuck and there was Ray, gorgeously half-naked in front of him. The way his chest moved with the heaves of his breaths was just unfair. Frank reached forward to bring Ray down against him just as Ray lowered his weight onto him, lying flush against him. Frank felt Ray up, just relishing in the flexing of his muscles as he held Frank’s thighs apart and lifted Frank’s hips off the bed. He kissed and nipped at Frank’s already bruised neck, a subtle pain that had Frank moaning. They looked at each other and kissed, Ray stroking Frank’s thighs as Frank’s fingers moved around Ray’s hips and below his waistband to squeeze his ass.

“Can we maybe stop beating around the bush please?” Frank said.

Ray smiled and leaned back again, Frank’s fingers lingering on him and his own lingering on Frank. They were such a touch-sensitive duo. Most days, that would be fine but right now Frank had a goal in mind. Ray uncapped the tub of lube, squirted a liberal amount onto two fingers as Frank frantically threw his pants to the ground, and massaged Frank’s hole deftly, waiting for Frank to relax before pushing in. Frank sighed contently, curling his fingers into the bed sheets. He rocked against Ray’s fingers that twisted and curled inside him, sending pricks of pleasure up Frank’s spine. Ray’s other hand was flat on his stomach, keeping him grounded on the mattress, something that, oddly, Frank enjoyed. Another squirt of lube and there were three fingers inside of Frank, making him whimper and murmur a litany of swears. Ray was slow, teasing, twisting and turning and curling his fingers whilst palming Frank’s balls. Frank’s breath was hitching and he rocked more against Ray. He cried out when Ray’s prodding fingers found just the right spot and Ray rubbed against it, making Frank a writhing, sweating mess, until finally, slowly pulling his fingers out.

“I hate you,” Frank whined. Ray rolled his eyes as he reached behind him for the hand sanitizer on Frank’s desk.

“Just pass me a condom,” Ray said, drying his hands with some tissue. Frank watched him awkwardly kneeling at the foot of Frank’s bed as he took off his jeans and underwear, letting them fall to the floor. Those strong thighs, that cock red and leaking at the tip, the bit of hair at the base of his cock, fuck, Frank would never get tired of seeing Ray naked. “Frank, I know I’m hot but…condom?”

“I don’t…have any?” Frank said, smiling meekly. Ray covered his face with his hands.

“You have lube and no condoms?”

“Well, I usually use the lube alone and you don’t need condoms to masturbate…” Ray frowned at Frank, got some lube in his palm, and started jerking himself. “Bob probably has, fuck.”

“You’re gonna steal from your roommate?” Ray said between breaths but Frank had already slid off the bed, going over to Bob’s dresser.

He heard Ray moan as he sifted through Bob’s things, so turned on he’d probably just fall apart if he didn’t get fucked in the next few minutes, and he almost said a prayer before finding the box of condoms Bob kept in the back of a drawer. Frank picked one and quickly hobbled back to his bed, offering Ray the condom. Ray laughed and tore open the wrapper.

“You’re staying on your back?” Ray asked. He rolled on the condom and again with the lube. This guy did not joke about comfort.

“You want me on my knees?” Frank asked.

Before Ray could respond, Frank had turned over. He was on his elbows and knees, perfectly displayed for Ray who whistled at the sight. Frank looked back, smirking, as Ray grabbed his ass, kneading his cheeks. Frank closed his eyes and hung his head. He felt a hand on his lower back and the head of Ray’s cock against him.

“Shove my face into the pillow,” said Frank, quickly because he wasn’t sure if Ray would be into it. They hadn’t done anything like this since last semester but it was the point of fucking Ray now. “Don’t let me get up for air, not until after you’re done.”

“What will your safe word be?” Ray said slowly and his quick compliance made Frank shiver.

“I’ll…” Frank searched for something. After a moment he brought his hands to the wooden bed frame and tapped it three times with his right hand. “I’ll hit the bed frame three times if I want you to stop.”

“I think you trust me more than I do,” Ray said. Which wasn’t the greatest thing to hear but the bottom line was that Frank did trust Ray and that was refreshing.

Ray moved his right hand to the back of Frank’s neck and lined up again. He made a few shallow thrusts, making Frank grunt each time, before burying himself to the hilt. He moved his other hand to Frank’s hip. Frank’s eyes rolled to the back of his head as Ray’s hips started moving, quickly picking up a steady rhythm. Frank gasped for breaths, wondering if Ray had chickened out, when suddenly Ray pushed him down by the neck. Frank moaned, his back arching, his chest against the mattress. He was so full of Ray and soon he was out of breath and he felt dizzy and electric.

To accompany the buzz from the lack of air and the increasingly sharp snaps of Ray’s hips, the position Frank was in left his body aching. He felt a sharp pain in the center of his back, an ache in his shoulders, both new and overwhelming and welcome. Frank moaned, the random spots of pain having the same paradoxical effects on him as Ray’s fingers curled around his neck did. Ray fucked inside him faster, added to his bruises, held him down in such a way that made Frank impossibly dependent on him. And it was okay. He was nowhere near scared or daunted. He felt safe and happy to be like this with Ray and each passing second he felt higher with it.

Soon, Frank was nothing more than a mess of sensation. Frank felt hot and sweaty, aching and stiff and chest tight with need though he trembled and moaned. He heard his bed creak, felt the frame draw dents into his fingers but made sure not to tap it. Ray’s balls hit his, his ass, and he grunted and murmured Frank’s name like a chorus. Frank’s ears were ringing; he didn’t know how much more he could take. He couldn’t move even if he had the air to laugh so he squeezed around Ray’s cock, letting his body sway. Ray’s hips stuttered and he moved his hand to Frank’s now half-hard cock. He stroked him until he was fully hard again, never stopping or slowing his thrusts. Then his fingers curled in Frank’s hair and drew his head back.

Frank gasped shakily as his body twisted, the shock of oxygen filling his lungs overwhelming him with how high it made him. He laughed, tears filling his eyes as his body was overwhelmed with too many things happening at once, then writhed and whimpered as he came on Ray’s hands and on the sheets. He moaned and shook and Ray didn’t slow his pace until, with a final swear and low grunt, his orgasm hit him as well. They both moaned as Ray slowly pulled out of Frank but kept his arms around him. Frank giggled softly, his pupils blown, as Ray lifted his spent body and held him in his lap. Frank was anything but senses now; he was heat and afterglow and happiness and Ray’s.

They were silent for a time. Frank wasn’t sure how long, he was so far gone. But Ray had produced something to clean them off, all while still holding Frank kneeling on his lap. He lowered Frank gently and Frank fell in a heap. For the briefest of seconds he felt alone and scared but soon Ray was shushing him and crawling on the bed under him, bringing a comforter over their naked bodies. Frank snuggled up close to him, listening to his heartbeat.

He felt so calm, so happy. Unlike he did with Ernest a couple nights before. He was taken care of with Ray. Frank chuckled. Ray rubbed his neck and back, kissed his forehead, and asked him how he felt.

“Great,” Frank murmured breathlessly. He wanted to tell Ray how comfortable he felt being vulnerable with him. He knew it was risky but he was still riding the orgasmic high. How could he fully explain it, thought? “You know that wedding I went to this weekend?”

“Yeah?” Ray said.

“My ex was there.”

Ray shifted but Frank didn’t look up. Didn’t want to see the worry in his face. “The one that…?” Frank nodded against his chest before Ray could finish the sentence. He’d told Ray and Mikey about that terrible relationship one night during winter break. “Did he bother you?”

Frank thought about how small Ernest made him feel, how guilty. How they fucked and Ernest had his way and Frank was equal parts relieved and disgusted right after. He heard gunshots from the common area, laughter from the parking lot, and the nervous thrum of Ray’s heart next to his ear.

“I needed you,” Frank murmured. He was choked up and Ray could tell and he hated it.

“It’s okay,” Ray said, rubbing Frank’s back some more. “Shh. You got me.”

Frank squeezed his eyes shut and started spreading kisses on Ray’s chest, until Ray chuckled and poked Frank’s side and they kissed on the lips and smiled against each other.

“I can’t believe Gerard agreed to this,” Frank said. He was starting to feel normal again, drawing circles on Ray’s chest.

“Actually, it was his idea,” Ray said. Frank’s eyebrows went right up. Very interesting…

“Huh. And how often can we do this?”

“Whenever the mood strikes, I guess.”

Frank bit his lip. He kept on drawing circles as he lowered his mouth to Ray’s ear. “I brought that dildo with me, you know,” he whispered. “The one you like.”

“Give me five minutes,” Ray murmured back, arm encircling Frank’s waist as he held him closer. Frank chuckled. They both startled when the door slammed open.

“Again?” Bob said, looking quite upset. In the distance, Gabe could be heard laughing over his game. “Are you fucking kidding me? Are we really repeating last semester, have you learned no—”

“Gerard’s cool with it!” Ray insisted, raising his hands in defense. Frank nodded. Bob looked between them, narrowed his eyes when Gabe laughed again, and sighed as his expression softened.

“I’ll go study in the common area,” Bob said, resigned, as he closed the door and walked away.  
Frank and Ray looked at each other and laughed. Then they kissed, and they touched, and they stole another condom.

***

Watching Pete and Mikey fight was probably Frank’s least favorite pastime but he constantly got roped into doing it anyway. After class they met up for a late lunch, Frank mentioned how much he loved Friends, and the pettiness ensued.

“You’re not listening to me,” Pete was saying. Frank took a bite out of his veggie burger and stared at the sesame seeds on the bun as he chewed. He silently thanked God that they’d picked a table at the far end of the food court and hoped no one would overhear the arguing. “For all Ross knew, it was over. He’d been thinking it was over for so long. He was lonely, needy, he—”

“Neither of them wanted it to be over,” Mikey said, rolling his eyes. “Neither of them thought it was ov—”

“Ross did!”

“Well you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you?”

Frank coughed, shocked by Mikey’s sudden comment. Pete’s face fell and he looked at his food with a frown. Mikey had his classic Blank Face on. Frank drank some soda and stared between them with wide eyes.

“I thought we weren’t bringing that up,” Pete said, barely above a whisper.

“You’re projecting our relationship onto the Ross and Rachel cheating fiasco,” Mikey said.

“No. See, that’s what you’re doing. I’m just talking about a show. But, oh, I side with Ross and it’s because I’m a cheater.”

Mikey turned to Frank with an expression on his face that feigned some kind of shocked excitement. “He admits it!” Mikey said. Frank rolled his eyes and contemplated a speck of pepper on his fries.

“I get in trouble for fucking one girl while you fuck half the campus,” Pete lamented. Frank shook his head slowly. Mikey looked between them indignantly, frowning.

“You know, you’re actually exactly like Ross,” Mikey said. Frank rubbed his eyes. Maybe if he wished really hard, something will come to save him from this conversation. “One guy looks at me funny and you have to make sure you let them know I’m your property. Like, you really don’t trust me or you think I can’t make decisions for myself about who I’m gonna fuck. Guess how many people I’ve fucked in the last three months.”

Pete continued to frown and wouldn’t take the bait so Frank sighed. “How many?” Frank grumbled.

“None,” Mikey went on, eyes always on Pete. “Because you’re so fucking scared of your sexuality that you won’t even try.”

“What do you think, Frank?” Pete said. Frank stared at him with wide eyes. “About the Ross and Rachel thing.”

Mikey crossed his arms and looked at his friend. Frank cleared his throat. “They were on a break…” he said meekly, returning to his burger.

Before Pete could proudly announce Frank being on his side, someone quickly approached Mikey and wrapped an arm around his neck. It was Gerard and he kissed Mikey’s head and shook him, against his brother’s wishes.

“Hey, kids!” Gerard said, pulling away to rub his knuckles on Pete’s head. Mikey smacked him. Gerard didn’t even look at Frank. “Don’t forget we’re jammin’ tomorrow. Gotta practice that new song before the show on Friday. Polish it up, you know.”

He said this while walking away, quickly making his presence known then quickly disappearing with a smoothie in his hand. Frank needed, though didn’t necessarily want, to talk to him. Still it was better than sitting with Pete and Mikey and having a front row seat to them going off on each other. So Frank promised to be right back and jogged to catch up to Gerard.

“Do you have a minute?” Frank said. Gerard kept on walking.

“I have exactly two to get back to the VA before the end of the break from my six-hour studio class and I am not slowing my pace for you, shorty,” Gerard said.

Six-hour classes? The conservatories would forever boggle Frank’s mind. They exited the food court and Frank regretted neglecting to snag his coat with every fiber of his being. Gerard stayed true to his word and Frank almost skipped to keep up with Gerard’s longer and more hurried stride.

“I just have a question,” Frank said.

“Shoot,” said Gerard.

“You suggested the open relationship?”

“Mhmm.”

“Why?”

“He’s going to cheat on me with you anyway. Might as well give him permission.”

Frank stopped short in his tracks. Gerard didn’t falter in his steps and didn’t look back. Normally Frank would’ve stopped to consider the implications of what had just been said but he was freezing and it was too much to think about at the moment. He rubbed his arms and headed back to the food court, eyebrows furrowed and chest aching for a cigarette.

***

That Friday, My Chemical Romance and Fall Out Boy performed at the Dent again. This time, My Chem (as Gerard had taken to affectionately calling his band) headlined. More people stayed for Fall Out Boy; there was a string that abandoned the room and did not all return during My Chem’s 5-minute, half-assed sound check (they felt they needed one after Patrick organized one for Fall Out Boy). Still, there was a wider and bigger and more intense mosh pit for the My Chem boys. Quantity versus quality. Brian Schechter decided they were tied for the night and neither band was content with this decision.

“Two months until Savage Fest,” he reminded them. “We’ve still got time.”

Couch Corner was a sketchy corner of the Dent with old couches, piles of books and cassette tapes and vinyls and CDs, broken machines and bicycles, torn up paintings and peeling paint. Frank meandered over there along with most of his friends after falling off of Brendon Urie’s skateboard enough times. He and Dewees sat on opposite arm rests of a chair with a stack of vinyls and a cigarette between them. Mikey and Pete were in the broken down carriage, making out and letting their hands wander to questionable places. Others were scattered about and the skaters on the ramps behind them were the soundtrack as a bottle of cognac got passed around.

“Look at this,” Frank said, showing Dewees a vinyl. “Mother Killer. Republican Anal Sex. Gone, D. Everything about this track list is golden.”

Frank startled when a pair of familiar hands landed on his hips. Dewees grabbed the vinyl with a grin on his face, passing back the cigarette. His eyebrows went up when he looked at the person now pressing against Frank’s back and put the cigarette between their lips.

“Christ, Dewees,” Ray shouted coughing as he held the cigarette away. Frank laughed as he took it. The poor, deprived soul had quit smoking before college even started.

“Naked in Newark,” Dewees read. “I Sucked Every Dick at a Basement Party. Frank, did you write this?”

“Ha ha ha ha,” Frank said dryly.

Ray got his arms around Frank again and Frank leaned back against him. He wondered if this was allowed. He wondered how far their intimacy could go and where would Gerard start to take offense? Where was Gerard? Why did Ray decide to show affection now, here? Frank curled his fingers through Ray’s and Ray kissed his jaw.

“Where’s your boyfriend?” Frank said, still feeling unsure about the open relationship deal.

“He got asked to be a part of some installation in the city really last minute and has to go meet the artist early tomorrow morning so he cancelled our plans for tonight,” Ray said. “He told me to spend the night with you instead.”

Frank rolled his eyes. Dewees was listening; Frank could tell by the way his expression changed as Ray spoke. Frank had half the heart to ask Dewees what he thought, since this situation was so convoluted any opinion could be welcomed.

“So your boyfriend gets to denote exact times when we get to fuck,” Frank said.

“ _Gerard_ was just making a suggestion,” Ray said. “Besides, it’s not just about sex necessarily.”

Frank tore away from Ray’s embrace. He didn’t want it to be just about sex, either, but he still felt icky being second choice and unsure even what the open relationship allowed for. Could they PDA and make out in front of a dozen people? Would their level of intimacy seem wrong given that they’d be sleeping together and their relationship was one of more than friends? What was their relationship? Where’s the line drawn between open relationship and polyamory? Frank knew Gabe was doing the polyamory thing with William and Victoria…maybe he could ask him about it….

“I’m gonna go over there,” Frank said to Ray, pointing to the couches. “What’s happening over there makes more sense than what’s happening over here,” he continued, gesturing between himself and Ray as he walked backward and away

Dewees’s eyebrows went up. Ray plopped down on the chair, frowning at his nails, and Dewees showed him a vinyl. Frank slithered into a seat on a couch next to Gabe, who was gesticulating wildly as he spoke to Andy about something.

“What’s up, dude?” Andy said after a moment, his voice full of concern.

“I am mildly irritated by the state of my romantic endeavors,” Frank grumbled.

“That’s rough, buddy… The girl I was trying to ask out on a date turned out to be a very feminine guy but I asked him out anyway because I can’t pretend to know my sexuality at eighteen.”

Frank groaned into Gabe’s shoulder. “One day I hope to be as zen as Andrew Hurley,” Gabe said. Frank grunted his agreement.

“Ladies and gentlemen, boys and slightly thinner boys,” came a booming voice into the otherwise tranquil Couch Corner. It was Hayley Williams and she’d dragged a stool to the middle of the mess and was standing on top of it, beaming at the group of people sitting around. “I am Hayley and these are my friends.”

Hayley patted the four boys standing by her stool in turn. The Farro brothers grinned sheepishly. Jeremy Davis poked Hayley’s knee and Taylor York waved at Frank. Frank waved back. He’d been told that he made out with a Taylor at a party a few weeks ago but he didn’t know it was this one.

“We’re here to let you know about our first real show, at the music building tomorrow,” Hayley said. “We would hand out flyers but apparently the administration is not a fan of these secret practice gigs so tell your friends but whisper about it, yeah?”

“No problem, Gwen Stefani,” someone said. The space was filled with raucous laughter. Hayley flipped off the speaker.

“You guys realize they’re all in the music conservatory, right?”

“Doesn’t mean they’d make a good band.”

“What’s your band name, anyway?” Frank said, getting to the point.

Hayley beamed at him. She opened her mouth to speak but her band members replied instead. “Paramore,” they said, and Hayley kicked Josh’s shoulder. Zack grabbed her ankle and tugged and she reached to Jeremy for balance.

“Not as good as My Chemical Romance but better than Fall Out Boy,” Gabe pondered aloud. Andy sucked his teeth and Frank laughed.

“We’re not threatened by you, Lucille,” Joe said. A chuckle moved through the gathered Couch Corner crowd.

“Brian’s gonna be there,” Hayley said. She hopped off the stool and walked away.

“8PM, music building,” Taylor said as he and his bandmates walked away. Hayley skipped ahead, a silence falling over the couch potatoes. They were all thinking the same thing: if Brian was going to be there, it meant Paramore had a chance at taking the opening spot at Savage Fest, Hayley’s dream come true.

“We should probably go check it out,” Joe said, and there was a murmur of agreement.

***

“They wanna compete with us to get a spot at Savage Fest?” Bob said, arms crossed over his chest. “Not fucking happening.”

Hype for Paramore had built pretty quickly and the next day a myriad of stragglers showed for the performance. More even than My Chem’s first practice in this space. Frank was sitting in the back row of the band room’s porcelain bleachers between Mikey and Bob whilst Paramore did their sound check. Brian was chatting with the band members in turn and the boys of Fall Out Boy and My Chemical Romance were noticeably annoyed. Pete, sitting on the other side of Mikey, was the only one whose feelings were remotely reasonable.

“They’re a talented group of dudes, this is gonna be sweet,” Pete said. Mikey covered his boyfriend’s mouth with his index finger.

Hayley tapped the mic four times and it fed back. The murmurs in the room faded and Hayley stood there beaming. Frank looked around the room for familiar faces. Gabe was with his primary group of friends on the first row, a lot of mutual friends of Hayley’s. Ray and Gerard were with Gerard’s friends toward the center, Ray a row above Gerard as he whispered in his ear. Dewees waved from the other end of the row and Matt, sitting next to him, grinned.

“Thanks for coming out tonight, guys!” Hayley shouted. There was a resounding cheer in response. “I know you’ve got an awesome night ahead of you and we’re glad you’re starting it with us! Anyway, we’re Paramore and these are our songs.”

The band started playing and it actually wasn’t terrible. Hayley seemed pretty into it and had a great presence for such a small girl. Her pipes weren’t weak either; she hit high notes that made the crowd cheer. It was entertaining and Frank begrudgingly found himself enjoying it. At some point Jeremy and Josh did a weird move that prompted Frank to nudge Mikey’s side and suggest they make their own weird move. Paramore had their back-to-back catapult thing, Fall Out Boy had their spinny thing. My Chemical Romance needed a thing.

“We have Gerard’s thing,” Mikey said, straight-faced. “He touches it on stage all the time.”

Frank covered his face with his hands. Pete and Bob laughed. When the first song of the set finished, Frank climbed down the rows and sat next to Gerard. For the next song, Hayley urged her friends to come down to the floor and dance with her. Plenty did. Frank turned to whisper in Gerard’s ear, at the same time Ray curled the fingers of one of his hands into Frank’s hair. It took a lot of effort for Frank not to make a pleased sound. Frank smiled meekly at Gerard’s friends.

“So you don’t think they’re going to one-up us in Brian’s preferences, do you?” Frank asked. Gerard chuckled and shook his head. They were being surprisingly friendly.

“I have a class with Brian, I’ll make it work,” Gerard said confidently.

Ray uncurled his fingers from Frank’s hair, stroking his jaw before leaning down to kiss Gerard’s head. Frank elbowed Ray as he went back up to his seat. The song ended and Mikey and Frank seemed like the only ones not cheering. They exchanged a meaningful look, one that opened up a conversation they’d had the night before.

“PDA,” Mikey said as Frank took his seat. “I’m telling you, you’re Ray’s second boyfriend.”

Frank stared, wide-eyed, zoning out everything but Hayley’s vocals.

***

Tuesday Frank skipped class because he had a cold and barely slept the night before. He was sitting on the couch watching Maury, a trash can on the floor in front of him half full with dirty tissues, and a tissue box in his lap. Hand sanitizer was perpetually in his hand. The suite door opened and he narrowed his eyes, zoning his attention onto the television. The person who opened the door sat next to him and he realized it was Ray but didn’t know how to do anything about it. So he waited and he moaned when Ray tangled his fingers in Frank’s almost shoulder-length hair, massaging his scalp. He sneezed so loud it startled them both and his moans turned pained as he dizzily brought a tissue to his nose.

“You…are NOT the father!” Maury declared to the instigating boos of the crowd. The man whose paternal status was in question did a back flip off his chair.

“I fucking knew it,” Frank croaked at the screen. He blew his nose and whined. Ray rubbed his back as he threw his tissue in the growing pile, squirting hand sanitizer into his palm.

“Come ‘ere,” Ray said, patting his thigh.

Frank looked at Ray, waiting for his head to remember how to move. He shifted slightly with the intent of getting onto Ray’s lap but it felt like the world was stretching away from him. Then Ray’s arms were around his waist, lifting him. Frank whined softly, settling in Ray’s lap and filled with calm at being cradled. Ray rubbed his arm and his thigh and kissed his head as his eyes drifted tiredly closed.

“Gonna get you sick,” Frank said, startled by the realization.

“I have the immune system of a rock,” Ray said. He tucked Frank’s hair behind his ear and kissed the lobe.

“Rocks don’t have immune systems…”

“They don’t need ‘em, motherfucker!”

Frank’s laughter turned into a coughing fit and Ray rubbed his arm some more, cradling his head against his chest. Frank hummed happily. He listened to Ray breathing, letting himself drift into sleep. It felt so good having a warm body so close. He didn’t notice when the suite door opened again but he was vaguely aware that Pete would be back from their class around this time so his voice didn’t shock him.

“You skipped class and midterms start next week,” Pete said.

“Yeah,” Frank said against Ray’s neck. Ray and Pete murmured something Frank didn’t catch.

“Paramore are playing another practice gig Saturday at the music building,” Pete said. It sounded like a test.

“Cool. We can smoke after.” Frank sat up a little straighter and looked at Ray with half-lidded eyes. “You gonna smoke?”

“Probably not,” Ray said. He exchanged a look with Pete. “I have a feeling Pete’s being rude because he needs to speak to you so I’m going to go make you soup.”

Frank whined as Ray slipped out from under him, leaving him resting in a ball with his head on an arm rest and facing the TV. There was a commercial by some law firm playing on the screen and Frank murmured the catchy jingle that was their 1-800 number under his breath. Pete sat on the coffee table in his field of vision and Frank groaned.

“You looked real comfortable in Ray’s lap,” Pete said, frowning.

“And you look like you lost something,” Frank grumbled.

“I miss Mikey.”

“You saw him last night.”

“My point is that you looked too comfortable with Ray,” Pete continued thoughtfully. “You know he’s not your boyfriend, right?”

“Mikey’s…hypothesis is…different,” Frank said.

He was ready to complain about Pete butting into his love life but since that’s all everyone did to Pete last semester, Frank figured he could let it slide. Besides, there was a strange pressure building between his eyes and he was pretty sure he was dying.

“At least you’re getting along better with Gerard,” Pete said.

“I think he realized that two of the closest people in his life are two of the closest people in mine,” Frank whispered, eyes closed.

“Yeah… Gerard’s really protective of Mikey.”

“Did he ever treat you like shit?”

Frank heard Ray reentering the common area, his footsteps sounding massive in Frank’s pounding head. The couch dipped and Frank grunted as he tried to sit up. Two pairs of hands helped him to a seated position and soon Frank was breathing into Ray’s chest.

“Gerard loves me,” Pete said, chuckling. “Thinks I’m good for his brother. But then again I didn’t sleep with his boyfriend.”

Ray shook his head, smiling. There was a cup noodle soup on the coffee table in front of them and Frank just sort of stared at it, pouting.

“This was a pointless conversation and I hate you,” Frank said.

“Feel better, Frankie,” Pete said, patting Frank’s thigh.

Frank stared at the screen, the mildly amused faces of the audience members highlighting the fact that this new woman’s baby daddy issues were merely for their entertainment. He knocked his head into Ray’s chest and wondered how many people looked at him like that.

***

“I just…need the…the universe to realign itself.”

Ray looked at Frank pleadingly. Frank’s eyes widened and he took a deep breath; behind him, a few people laughed. Frank couldn’t help but smile as he gingerly took the joint that was slipping from Ray’s fingers.

“It will, Ray,” Frank said bringing the joint to his lips with much more ease than Ray had a few minutes before.

“It’s fucking freaking me out.”

Frank coughed. “You’ll be okay, dude.”

Frank looked back to see their friends smiling with varying levels of pity and amusement, most of them some kind of not-sober as well. They were standing just outside of the forest on the north end of campus, next to the parking lot of junior village, after another great Paramore gig. Dewees was leaning against a tree and hysterically laughing at his roommate; Bob, Gabe, and Mikey were huddled over a joint, chuckling; Joe, obviously trashed, was leaning heavily on Andy and Patrick, who seemed to both be boringly sober, with his arms around their necks. Frank was trying to keep it together for Ray because he knew they were probably going to mess with the poor guy but he definitely felt the misalignment of the universe as well and Ray was just such a big guy and big guys stoned were hysterical and Frank, well, he just wanted to touch Ray’s stubble so he did. He touched Ray’s cheek and told him gently to shush and Ray leaned against his touch, murmuring something about how very small Frank’s feet were.

“This is fucking potent,” Bob said, looking at the joint at Mikey’s lips admiringly.

“I told you my guy’s good,” Frank said proudly. He heard footsteps from his left and looked over. Pete had drawn the short straw and had been forced to go get Gerard from his apartment. They were quickly walking over. “Well, everyone’s here. We can go to the Trail now.”

There was a weak group cheer. Andy and Patrick stormed ahead of everyone. Pete took Mikey’s wrist and dragged him away from a conversation with Bob and Gabe. Ray hooked arms with Gerard and Frank and started marching forward.

“I swear to God my eyes are gonna fall out of my head,” Ray said, looking at the ground with wide eyes. His feet were far apart as he stepped forward. Frank chuckled. Gerard gave them both strange looks and Frank offered him the joint.

“You got my boyfriend high?” Gerard asked.

Frank just kept offering him the weed, knowing that the reason he even needed to get dragged out of his apartment in the first place was because he was freaking out about his senior project proposal coming up. He needed to unwind and he knew it, rolling his eyes as he took the joint from Frank’s fingers.

It was still firmly winter but that first week of March had been uncharacteristically warm so they went to the Trail for a smoke. The Trail was reserved for cross-country but at night was mostly for stoners; there was a reasonably hidden clearing with all manner of boulders and fallen-over trees to form a circle and they usually claimed it on Friday nights that were warm enough. They headed in that direction, having five different conversations and wobbling on their feet. When they got to the clearing, they claimed spots all around. Frank got a boulder and Gabe, Bob, Dewees, and Joe sat on rocks around him as they shared a couple joints. Andy and Patrick sat far away from their circle and near where Pete and Mikey were lying, facing away from the rest of the group. Gerard and Ray sat on a log nearby and Frank tried not to think about what they were doing.

“I have a question for you, Patrick,” Frank said very suddenly, shocking even himself.

“I have an interview in the morning,” Patrick said. Andy chuckled. Had Frank already asked? Well, it couldn’t hurt to ask again.

“That’s fine! And that’s a good reason not to drink. But there’s no, like…pot hangover, you know? I mean, I understand Andy is straight edge and eternally cursed to be the designated driver.”

“I don’t mind,” Andy said with a shrug.

Frank was so overwhelmed with admiration that he groaned loudly and turned to Andy with wide eyes. “I love you so much,” he squeaked. He turned back to Patrick and grinned. “Like, why won’t you try pot even once? You’re in college, dude! Live a little!”

Joe laughs, covering his mouth with both hands. Frank stared at Patrick as if he held the answers to the universe. Patrick sighed, smiling meekly at his inebriated friends.

“I am allergic to marijuana,” Patrick said.

Frank’s eyebrows went right up. He looked to Joe for confirmation. Joe nodded and continued laughing. Gabe and Bob smiled. Mikey and Pete argued silently, Ray and Gerard made out, and Frank fell into a laughing fit. Quite literally; his knees hit the dirt and he was giggling so much it actually frightened him a little.

“That’s the saddest thing I’ve ever heard,” Frank said, his voice softening so that he may genuinely express his sadness. He gasped, startled, and smacked Gerard’s thigh. “Did you hear this? Stump is allergic to pot! And, oh my God, he’s sitting on a stump. I’m gonna die. I’m fucking…”

Frank smacked Gerard’s thigh over and over and the feeling was enticing though he couldn’t understand it. He looked up; he stroked Gerard’s thigh; he leaned against him; he felt moisture on his knees; he decided Gerard was as good a seat as any. He lifted himself and sat firmly in Gerard’s lap. He smiled at Ray, who smiled bemusedly back at him, and then raised his eyebrows at Gerard when he curled his arms around him. Conversations behind Frank continued but he cared only for Gerard’s pretty eyes and he hung his arms around Gerard’s pretty neck and told him with all the confidence in the world that he was fucking pretty.

“You are, too,” Gerard said. Frank grinned. No shit. “Ray wants me to make out with you.”

Frank glanced at Ray for clarification, seeing only mild desire in his cloudy eyes. He turned to Gerard with wide eyes. “Do you wanna make out with me?” Frank murmured. Gerard nodded, looking at Frank’s lips. “Okay.”

They kissed and Frank was so overwhelmed with the oddness of the situation that he helplessly giggled, as Gerard held him too tight and Ray touched his wet knee and Gerard was as good a kisser as ever and Frank felt fucking electric with their attention on him like that. He was ready to say so, that he was so content with their attention, but yelling behind him distracted everyone.

“Why the fuck do you keep _saying_ that?” Mikey said. Gerard and Frank stopped kissing for a beat but continued, blatantly ignoring their duties in terms of Mikey’s distress.

“Because it’s true,” Pete said. “Because I can’t. How can I trust you if you lie to Gerard about—”

“Shut up! Fuck!”

Frank practically fell off of Gerard’s lap, startled by Gerard sitting up straight and moving him to look passed him. He felt Ray’s arms on him and was suddenly transferred to his lap. Ray nosed Frank’s neck and Frank held him, glancing around the site.

“So how ’bout those Yankees?” Dewees cracked. “Let’s…talk about the Yankees.”

“Fuck the Yankees,” Gabe said. “Mets, man!”

In a glorious uproar that would surely give Frank nightmares for weeks, Bob, Patrick, Joe, and Andy all shouted, “Cubs!” There was laughter, the ruse to ignore Pete and Mikey’s relationship drama working for an instant. But Gerard was staring at Mikey kind of sadly and the gears must’ve started moving in his brain again because he cleared his throat and responded.

“You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to, okay?” Gerard said to Mikey. “And you shouldn’t be dating a guy that has so many trust issues that his trust in you hinges on your trust in someone else.”

The site grew quiet again. It was kind of dark, Frank realized, the street lamps from the road just outside the trees not lending them much light. But Frank could see the brokenly angry expression on Mikey’s face from where he sat a few feet away from Pete on the ground, whose expression was equally hurt, as surely as he felt Ray’s hand on his hip just passed the hem of his jeans. All Frank could think was how easily someone got on Gerard’s bad side.

“It’s really cute how you’re so quick to play big brother when he doesn’t tell you squat,” Pete said. “It’s cute how fucking everyone defends Mikey like he’s a fucking saint when he’s the biggest fucking asshole—”

“Stop it!” Mikey shouted. Frank locked his jaw, hating the look of hurt Mikey gave his pure-fucking-evil boyfriend. There was no other explanation for how mean Pete was being. “What is wrong with you?” Mikey said, covering his face with both hands.

“Shut the fuck up, Pete,” Gerard said, standing. There was a shuffle as the boys on the ground created an obstacle for Gerard, Ray and Frank holding onto his arm.

“Why are you defending me?” Mikey said, wiping his eyes. “He’s…not wrong, you know.”

Frank tried standing up now, because no one was allowed to make his best friend feel crappy about himself, but Ray easily held him to his lap. Pete looked at Mikey with something like regret in his eyes and he scooted closer to his boyfriend.

“Mikey…” Pete whispered. “I didn’t…”

And then they were whispering again, the volume of their fight taken right back down. Everyone seemed to relax except for Gerard, who remained tense as he sat back down. Ray brought a hand to Gerard’s hair and Frank was mystified when they kissed, honored to be able to see it up close like this.

“I should stay out of their fights,” Gerard said, chuckling faintly. Frank could tell he was still hurt and concerned. Gerard put a hand in Frank’s lap and Frank held it. “You got another joint?”

“I can conjure one up,” Frank said, nodding.

“Do you want coke?” Mikey said suddenly, pausing all other conversations again.

He was sitting a little straighter and Pete bit his thumb. It took a moment for Frank to realize the implication of what he’d said and he looked at Gerard with his eyes huge.

“Please tell me you’re not using again,” Gerard said slowly. Hurt would be a weak word to describe the look on his face.

“Pete and I just did a few bumps while you were making out with whoever,” Mikey said, waving a hand dismissively. Others reacted with varying levels of shock, gasping or shifting their bodies and staring with anger or shouting what. Frank wasn’t entirely shocked. Pete had to be on some illicit drug to be so mean to Mikey. It made sense now.

“You didn’t know?” Frank murmured. He wasn’t speaking to anyone in particular, just feeling superior for not being so surprised. Gerard turned to him with a vicious look on his face.

“You did?!” Gerard spat and oh whoa right bad thing.

“Yeah,” Mikey said. “Me, Gabe, and Frank all did a couple lines before we blew each other last semester.”

There was that soundshiftlook of shock from everyone again. Ray dug his nails into Frank’s skin. Gabe covered his face with both hands. Frank never thought he’d see Gerard on the verge of tears but there they were. Gerard stared and stared at Mikey and Frank held his breath; literally, pinched his nose and waited for something to happen.

“I have to…have to work on my proposal,” Gerard said.

He stood up suddenly and walked back to the Trail. There was silence and Frank slipped from Ray’s lap onto the ground. Gabe frowned at Frank but didn’t look particularly angry. It had become evident that Frank had a big mouth and, given the opportunity, would ruin five relationships in one go. So Frank rested his head in Gabe’s lap and closed his eyes.

“Are you fucking happy?” Mikey said.

“Ecstatic,” was Pete’s bitter reply.

There was shifting and steps moving and Frank replayed the scene in his head, unconvinced that it all had actually happened. He was suddenly overwhelmed with worry. For Mikey and Pete and their relationship, for what Gerard and Ray thought of him and them, for what was going to happen next. He didn’t want anything to happen next. He was scared and people were angry and sad and he was too high to function like a human being at the moment.

“I should go after Gerard,” Ray said.

“I should go after Pete,” Patrick said.

“I should go after Mikey,” Frank grumbled.

“I’ll help Joe find a party to crash,” Dewees said. Frank smacked his stomach.

“Great Friday night, guys,” Andy said.

They all dispersed almost immediately, going their separate ways on their separate missions. Great Friday night.

***

A better part of Saturday was spent in recovery, both physical and emotional. Everyone bummed around and tried to mend wounds but it was no easy task. Mikey wouldn’t talk to Frank; he wouldn’t talk to anyone. Ray insisted that Gerard wasn’t mad at anyone, or at least was aware he shouldn’t be; just disappointed in Mikey. They didn’t talk about the kiss. It seemed to pale in comparison to other issues that had been presented.

No one in the suite said but Frank felt like they looked at him differently now, knowing that he used coke that one time. That may be why it was easier than he expected to talk to Pete come Sunday afternoon. Pete’s real group of friends, like Gabe’s, did not include the suitemates, so he all but disappeared Friday night. Frank was in the living room, reading for class, when Pete slipped into the suite. Frank saw him enter and it took all of three seconds to follow him to his room. To further prove that the situation was an odd one, Pete spoke first.

“Is Mikey okay?” Pete asked, sounding strained. He moved this way and that, throwing things into his backpack on his bed.

“He won’t talk to me,” Frank said in monotone. He closed the bedroom door and leaned against it, his arms crossed. He tried to remain expressionless for fear of letting a panicky Pete know how concerned he was.

“I didn’t mean what I said. I was high, I was fucking…” Pete rubbed his forehead. “I keep messing up but it’s not just me!” He looked at Frank pleadingly. “Okay, I know I have issues but Mikey…ignores them. And at first it was necessary because otherwise we wouldn’t have gotten together but now it’s like…fuck, he’s ten steps ahead of me and I’m never gonna catch up.”

Frank didn’t say anything as Pete frantically packed. He never had heard Pete’s side of the story and, though he imagined Mikey’s relentlessly flirty nature probably did put a strain on their relationship, he was starting to think neither side mattered. If Pete and Mikey weren’t blindly enamored with each other, they were hopelessly enraged. The drugs probably exacerbated the situation. Frank decided to tackle that first, the glaring issue hanging over everyone’s heads.

“When did you start…using?” Frank said, going for a word Gerard had said.

“Friday night was the second time I ever did it and I’m not…again…” Pete said, staring at a shoe in his hand. Frank hoped it was true. “I’m going to Patrick’s, okay?”

“You can stay. No one here is upset with you, it’s literally none of our business. We’re just concerned, is all.”

Pete put his arms through the straps of his backpack, obviously electing to ignore what Frank had said. Frank moved away from the door and followed Pete out. Pete stormed out of the suite and Frank leaned against the wall, frowning at the text he’d sent to Mikey that still had no reply.

***

It was on Friday the thirteenth, in the middle of March, that Frank Screwed Up. It could be argued that he had simply had a stroke of bad luck and that the level of screwing up was uniform across multiple involved parties. However, always the martyr, Frank will feel as if only he Screwed Up. It had been a week since he’d hung out with his best friend, had a whole conversation with any friend, been kissed, or been inebriated. With Frank’s history, it could only get worse.

“Where’s Pete?” said Mikey, suddenly at Frank’s door. Frank startled where he lied face down on his bed, looking up from his French book, a wave of relief following his initial shock. He had only seen Mikey in passing all week and having him just outside his room made him anxious.

“He literally just went to pick up his laundry from K street,” Frank said. Mikey nodded and looked down the hall. “Are you mad at me?”

“What? God, no. I just…needed some time alone.”

Usually that was all that was needed to end their fights or disagreements, some time and a quick response, but there were a couple problems with this one. Firstly, there was no signature Mikey smile. The teeny one reserved for people he cared about, an “it’s okay” that Frank had come to associate with getting Mikey back. Secondly, Frank couldn’t recall actually having done something wrong. The only thing, really, was letting it slip that they’d used coke last semester but Frank was really only screwing himself with that and Mikey used it as leverage to dig himself a deeper hole. Maybe Frank was thinking too hard about it.

“Okay,” Frank said. “So you guys are still together, you’ve…”

“Yeah, we worked it out,” Mikey snapped.

Again, Frank was shocked by Mikey’s attitude as well as his making the huge decision without talking about it with Frank at all. He should’ve taken it as a sign to drop the subject but too often he’d seen Mikey crying over Pete and he himself felt so emotionally invested in their relationship.

“After all the…the terrible things he said—” Frank started timidly.

“Don’t you dare,” Mikey said, crossing his arms and leaning against the door frame.

“Your relationship just—”

“Is none of your business.”

Frank knew getting angry would do the opposite of help but Mikey was being so unreasonably rude. “Isn’t it?” Frank said. “You’re my best friend and he’s my suitemate. I’m constantly around at least one of you, a lot of the time with you both. I get caught up in your fights and—”

“Masturbating to us having sex?” Mikey interrupted, chuckling maliciously.

Frank locked his jaw. So that’s what they were doing. “How is the sex?”

“Unfortunately not as good as it is between you and Ray. Because that’s what he wants from you. A snack on the side.”

“Fuck off,” Frank murmured, shocked by the jab.

“No, you wanna dig into my relationship?” Mikey said, not even flinching when Dewees walked by him on the way to the bathroom. “How about you and Ray? And Gerard? This open relationship thing is a ploy to fuck you.”

“A week ago you thought—”

“I was just telling you what you wanted to hear. I’ll wait in Pete’s room.”

Mikey turned away and walked down the hall. Frank wasn’t even sure what had just transpired. Dewees walked by and raised his eyebrows at Frank. He went back to his French textbook. A while later, Pete must have returned with his laundry because Frank heard giggling and kissing sounds from the window. He sighed, closed his book shut, and marched to the living room looking for a distraction and finding it in a shitty romantic comedy that actually turned out to be quite entertaining. He lied there with the remote on his stomach and his eyes glued to the screen. Didn’t look up when Pete walked out the suite with Mikey in tow, didn’t look up when Gabe stood just inside the common area hours later with his arms in the air.

“Friday niiiight!” Gabe said. Frank nodded, flicking past a cop show marathon. Dewees shouted from the hallway and he appeared with Ray. “What are we doing?”

“Chantal’s throwing a party,” Dewees said. “Bob’s already over there.”

“Jimmy’s girl?” Ray said. He sat on an armrest of the couch and shook Frank’s leg. “Hell yes.”

All eyes were on Frank and he realized it was his turn to speak. “I have a…paper to work on,” he said. It wasn’t a lie; midterms went by in a flash but there was still stuff to do. His suitemates didn’t buy it. Dewees rolled his eyes and Gabe frowned. “Don’t look at me like that! You know Jackson is the devil’s spawn.”

“I fucking told you not to take class with her,” Gabe said.

Frank shrugged, showing no intent to move from the couch. Gabe and Dewees looked at him suspiciously, and Ray was looking at him with concern.

“If Frank’s not going, I’m not going,” Ray said. “I’ll keep him company while he…writes his paper.”

“You don’t have to,” Frank grumbled.

“Okay.”

Ray grinned. Frank pursed his lips to hold a smile. Gabe and Dewees took the hint and made their way toward the door.

“If you change your mind…Chantal lives on B street, it’ll be hard to miss,” Dewees said.

In a second they were gone and Ray lifted Frank’s legs to sit under them. Frank bounced his legs on Ray’s thighs and Ray held them down.

“So what’s going on?” Ray asked.

Frank had quite a few things to say to answer the question, like how he seemed to be losing his best friend without even trying or how he was still confused about what happened in the Trail the other night or how he found himself confused about his relationship with Ray and Gerard and he must’ve been staring at Ray thoughtfully for a while because Ray was suddenly lying between his legs and on top of him. Frank blinked, annoyed with himself for tearing up. Ray nosed his neck and kissed it and kissed him, hands on his waist as their tongues slid against each other. Frank held onto Ray’s shoulders then drew his fingers down, pleased with himself when Ray arched his back. He reached down and squeezed Ray’s ass and Ray pulled away laughing.

“Don’t you have a paper to write?” Ray said. He ran his fingers through Frank’s hair over and over and Frank closed his eyes, reveling in the slight tugs and the occasional strokes of his scalp. He hummed and Ray kissed him again, keeping a hand in his hair. “Do you have…something…on your mind?” Ray asked between kisses and as a matter of fact Frank did.

He didn’t say anything right away. Just kissed Ray and touched him and let himself be touched, hands under shirts and breaths hitching and hips so close it would surely be a crime not to do something about it. But Frank kept thinking and circling back and he knew he couldn’t, wouldn’t enjoy this without getting rid of at least one thought. So he pulled away from the kiss, still tangled in Ray, but his lips now free despite Ray’s being on his throat.

“Uh…why’d you tell Gerard…” Frank started, reasonably too distracted to be completely coherent. “I mean, the other night, why did you want him to make out with me?”

Ray paused his assault on Frank’s neck and pulled back to narrow his eyes at him. “Why do we always have these weighted conversations before having sex?” Ray said. Frank smiled and shrugged. Ray ran his fingers through his hair again. It was heavenly. “I thought it’d be hot,” Ray said. “It was.”

Frank could buy that but it wasn’t exactly what he was looking for. Maybe he wanted to know why it was okay. Why Ray’s Boyfriend Gerard and Ray’s Lover Frank could make out but Frank still felt guilty whenever he and Ray fucked.

“But…why—” Frank started, thoughtfully, and Ray seemed to read his mind.

“We were high,” Ray said. He was smiling as he leaned down to kiss Frank’s forehead lovingly and Frank got to wondering about what Mikey said. Ray moved to kiss Frank’s neck again, his hand stroking Frank’s hip and pushing his jeans down. Frank didn’t know how to go about it and he knew the conversation would end up being awkward because of this but he had to know.

“Do you like me?” Frank mumbled.

Ray pulled away almost immediately, looking appalled by Frank’s question. “Yes. What?” Ray said, confused as he propped himself up by an elbow on the couch. He twirled Frank’s hair in his fingers and grinned, kissing Frank’s cheek over and over, and it was so sweet and affectionate but Frank’s mind was just muddled with insecurity. “I fucking adore you, Frankie,” Ray said, kissing Frank softly on the lips.

It relaxed Frank for a moment, Ray’s little gestures, but he’d gotten himself to a really low place mentally and the next part just slipped out. “Not enough to dump Gerard?” he said.

That was enough for Ray’s sweetness to fade, apparently, because he pulled away entirely and moved to sit at the opposite end of the couch. “If you don’t wanna do this anymore, just say so,” he said.

Frank sat up and folded his arms. “I just don’t get why you’re still together if he makes you miserable.”

“I love him.” Ray’s words startled Frank but he didn’t seem to notice. “And he only makes me miserable…on special occasions.” Ray grinned at his own “joke” but Frank just continued to stare, deep in thought. Ray sighed and turned to him, getting serious. “I know this is hard and I never meant to ask too much of you. I’m sorry about the other—”

“I get it now,” Frank interrupted.

“What?”

“You like me…but you _love_ him.”

“Yeah,” Ray said, as if it was the most obvious thing, and Frank suddenly felt hurt because of course it was obvious. Ray scratched his head. “Frank…fuck, I can’t do this. I’m in love with Gerard, yeah. He’s my boyfriend. You’re…one of my best friends. And I’m attracted to you and we have fun. And I care about you and I like being there for you, being intimate with you.” Ray scooted closer and took Frank’s hand. Frank thought he was falling apart. “But that’s it. It’s about intimacy and…” Ray chuckled, shaking his head. “I mean, you don’t love me.”

There it was. Frank stared and willed time to turn back just enough that their conversation had never gotten to this place. Ray stared back until it seemed to dawn on him, long after it had occurred to Frank, and let go of Frank’s hand.

“I don’t know,” Frank said, because it was easier than saying _yeah, asshole_. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t…apologize for your feelings, Frank, fuck,” Ray said. He rubbed his forehead as he walked down the hall.

“You’re mad at me. I fucked this up.”

Ray didn’t reply. Maybe he didn’t hear. Frank ran his fingers through his hair over and over and over but it only felt good when Ray did it. Ray reappeared with his jacket on and avoided eye contact.

“Chantal lives on B street, right?” Ray asked.

Frank furrowed his brow at him. “Yeah?” Frank said.

“Grab your jacket, let’s go.”

Frank looked at his jacket draped over the arm chair. He didn’t understand what Ray was doing. He didn’t want to go anywhere or do anything. “I’m not—”

“You’re not doing the pity party right now,” Ray said. He walked over and grabbed Frank’s jacket, finally making eye contact as he handed it to him. “We’re going to go to a real party. You’re going to unwind. Because you hide away when you’re upset and this isn’t something that needs time.” Ray crouched in front of Frank. “I’m sorry I don’t feel the same, I’m sorry I didn’t think about your feelings when I got you into this, I’m sorry I’m hurting you.” Frank kept on staring at Ray and didn’t dare speak. “But dwelling on it won’t change a thing or make it better so…I’m not letting you dwell.”

Frank saw that worried look in Ray’s eyes and willed whatever was knotted behind his ribs to uncoil and let him breathe. He took his jacket gingerly from Ray’s hands and cleared his throat.

“She lives in…B2-4?” Frank said softly. “Or B2-3…”

Ray hopped up and started toward the door. “The sooner we’re out of here, the sooner we’ll be able to figure it out,” he said.

They walked to B street a few feet apart. They didn’t speak the whole night.

***

The temperature had settled back down, skipping mid-March normal and gingerly falling to freakishly cold, so Frank stumbled over the threshold of the suite with his fat coat on. He dragged his feet, nodded at Bob as he dropped his stuff off in their room, then continued down the hall to Pete and Gabe’s. Not only was Frank freezing, but he was lonely and confused and annoyed and sad. He was glad to see Gabe lying on his bed reading a magazine. Frank waltzed in and Gabe scooted to accommodate him on the bed. He hopped up and sat on the bed, looking down at Gabe.

“How do you do it?” Frank asked, hoping his tone conveyed the seriousness he hoped this conversation would have.

Gabe lowered his magazine onto his stomach. “Do what?” he said, somewhat amused.

“You know, being with Bill and Vicky.”

Gabe sighed and propped himself up on his elbows. “It really depends on what everyone is in the mood for, you know?” he said, confusing the shit out of Frank. “One of us usually ends up fucking her but she likes watching us fuck, so—”

“That is NOT what I meant,” Frank said, startled. Gabe snorted out a laugh and lied back down.

“We’re just all into each other, I don’t know. I suggested a threesome one time and they started hanging out after. They clicked. And we just went for it. Takes a lot of trust and honesty and sometimes it’s hard so we work hard at it.”

Frank stared at Gabe in wonder. Is that what Gabe Saporta sounded like when he wrote a paper, or when he was being Serious? Gabe looked at Frank as if waiting for a reaction then sat up.

“That doesn’t help you with your Ray and Gerard problem, does it?” Gabe asked, still sounding quite amused.

“No, but I’m happy for you,” Frank said, and he meant it. He really was happy for Gabe; you’ve never seen a guy smile so wide. But he was distracted by his own stuff. Gabe rubbed his head, lying back down and taking Frank with him. Frank laid half on his thigh and stomach and stared at the ceiling as Gabe murmured the words of the article he was reading.

They didn’t hear anyone entering the suite but there were rushed footsteps out in the hall, followed by two sets of laughter. Suddenly there was someone at the door.

“Pete gave me a blow job,” said Mikey’s voice and Frank and Gabe immediately shot up. Mikey was beaming and breathless, his hair all mussed up and his face red.

“Oh my god,” Gabe said, giggling, at the same Frank said, “Fucking finally.”

“Shh, he’s in the bathroom.” Mikey quickly shuffled in, getting close to his friends and never letting that grin leave his face. “It wasn’t, like, the best blow job ever but at the same time it was because it was Pete and he was adorably self-conscious about it.” Mikey sighed wistfully, smiling at the ceiling. “I’m so fucking gone for this dude. Fuck. It’s awesome. Being in love.”

“Are you high?” Frank had to ask.

“A little bit,” Mikey said, gleefully playing with the sheets on Gabe’s bed. He turned to Frank. “Gosh, you’ve gotta have someone. To keep for yourself.”

“I have two,” Gabe chipped in excitedly.

“Rub it right in my face,” Frank said.

“Is that what you tell Ray?” said Mikey, leaning close to Frank. Gabe still managed to hear and he chuckled, causing a blush to rise on Frank’s cheeks.

“Are you gonna keep being an asshole?” Frank grumbled.

Mikey kissed Frank’s ear, licked the shell, and chuckled against it when Frank shuddered. “Ray’s just fine without you,” he whispered. He backed away, toward Pete’s bed, and Gabe exchanged a what the fuck was that? look with Frank. They settled back into their cuddle and Gabe read his magazine, over the sounds of making out heard once Pete climbed into bed with Mikey. Frank tried to ignore the pang in his chest over Mikey’s words and the obsessive wondering over what he did to deserve them.

***

Staying true to upstate New York’s freakish weather, a wild snowstorm cancelled late classes on Wednesday and all classes on Thursday. The food courts would be closed during this time so underclassmen without kitchens were encouraged to stock up on nonperishables or starve. Suite L325 and a few stragglers chose a different route altogether: Gerard’s apartment on E street.

“We cannot accommodate all of you, you ridiculous pieces of shit,” Gerard said as he ushered the crew of miscreants into the safety of his apartment, away from the howling winds and shooting snow of the storm. He could whine all he wanted, there was no way he’d let his friends stay out in the cold after the trek that took them to the Junior Village on the northern edge of campus. “This is not a motel,” he went on, exasperated. “This is an apartment for four people. There are, like, twelve of you.”

Frank, Bob, Dewees, Gabe, Pete, Mikey, Brendon, Ryan, Matt, Alex, William and Nate poured into the apartment with amused smiles on their faces. Bob stayed by the door, ready to play the spokesperson for the crew, as everyone shook their limbs. Gerard seemed to respect Bob’s opinions in general and Bob was the calmest (read: most sober at the moment) of them anyhow.

“Relax,” Bob demanded sternly. Ray and Adam laughed and got up from the couch to help the stragglers with their things. “We brought food, drinks, sleeping bags, and games. This’ll be a blast! Sleepover!”

Gerard rolled his eyes. “I’m not cleaning up after you,” he said.

Food (cereal and ramen) was stacked on the counter in the kitchen, drinks (milk and liquor) stored where necessary, sleeping bags tossed into the hall closet for the time being. Bob insisted the “games” part would become apparent soon enough and murmured with Gabe’s crew (William, Alex, and Nate) about it. It was late on a stormy Wednesday and fifteen boys were scattered around a living room drinking and chatting. Frank thought it was hysterical.

“We should’ve stayed in our suite,” Dewees lamented, looking out the window at the surely mounting piles of snow.

“What’s the fun in that?” Frank said, waving his too-sweet stutter home wine bottle around.

They were sitting against the window, about where Frank and Gerard did the deed that first time they met. Dewees, Frank, and Matt were sharing shitty wine. The moment he knew classes were cancelled, Frank started drinking and was now unapologetically very drunk. He told Dewees as much. Then he turned pointedly to Matt, informing him gravely that having sex with him the night before had solely been for the purpose of getting off and that he cared little about Matt outside of their escapades and that he was basically using him because he knew Matt liked him and Matt should run for the hills run before Frank got the chance to break his heart.

“Dude, I’m graduating in two months,” Matt said. “I have bigger things to worry about than a cute boy using me for sex. Please, use me.”

Frank thought for a moment that maybe he was in love. He blinked a few times then turned to Dewees. “Why do we call you by your last name?” he asked. “James is a perfectly acceptable name.”

Dewees—JAMES—smiled amusedly at Frank’s look of wonder. “At orientation,” he said, “there were four guys, including me, named James. They started referring to us by our last names and it stuck with me.”

“Cool,” Frank said, then turned away to make out with Matt.

After a while even that got boring so Frank was ecstatic when Bob told everyone to form a circle in the living room. There was a lot of shuffling. Frank jumped up, entirely ready to sit next to notMatt. Everyone fell into place eventually, forming a circle with chairs and couches, too close together despite a reasonably large living room. Frank looked around the circle—left to right, Gabe and William sat in chairs next to the couch; Ray, Gerard, Alex and Nate somehow squeezed onto the couch; Adam and Matt in chairs in front of the TV; Pete on top of Mikey in the loveseat; Brendon, Ryan, and Frank sitting on the coffee table like it was a bench—as Bob passed around torn little bits of paper and various markers, pencils, and pens. He was holding a large bowl.

“Everyone put a truth and a dare in the bowl and we’ll go around and pick,” he said.

“This could be really fun or really lame,” Mikey said.

“Good thing we’re all wasted,” said Alex Suarez because he sees what’s important.

After a while of murmuring and shushing and peaking and giggling, the bowl was filled with crumbled little pieces of paper. Frank bounced in his seat, raising his hand to pick first, and everyone chuckled as Bob rolled his eyes. He placed the bowl on the ground and sat on the armrest next to Ray. Frank leapt forward and dipped his hand in the bowl of papers. He picked one and opened it up.

“‘Kiss the person three spots to your left,’” Frank declared.

There was a group ooh that quickly turned into laughter when Bob realized where he was and tried to roll over into a space between Ray and Gerard that didn’t exist. Gerard was frowning and looking at Adam but Ray just grinned and threw Bob onto the ground. Frank, already on his knees, shimmied over and straddled his roommate’s waist. Frank had a fleeting thought of relief that Bob had chosen the seat he had; if he hadn’t, Frank would’ve had to kiss Ray and it had been a long time since he last kissed Ray. Besides, that would be no fun. Frank leaned down, bringing his hands to Bob’s neck and his thumbs to his jaw, and kissed him easily, happily, to the applause of his friends. Bob kissed him back hesitantly but slowly fell into it, holding Frank’s waist and wow wow.

Eventually, someone shouted, “Enough!” and Frank pulled away. He grinned, breathless and face hot, and sat back on Bob’s crotch. Bob tightened his grip on Frank’s waist, a delicious sort of ache, and shoved.

“Get the fuck off me,” Bob said.

“Love ya, Bobby,” Frank said.

Bob pinched Frank’s waist and Frank hissed, rolling off of him. They went back to their seats.

“Is he a good kisser?” William whispered, just loudly enough that everyone heard.

“Yes he’s a good kisser!” Bob said, as if offended by the possibility that he wasn’t. Frank beamed. “Of course he’s a good kisser. He’s kissed half this room.”

Has he? Frank thought about it. Mikey, Gabe, Ray, Gerard, Brendon, Matt, and now Bob. Wow. Frank had a fucking repertoire of kissees.

“Quantity does not predict quality,” Ryan quipped. Brendon let out a startled laugh and a chuckle moved through the circle. Frank elbowed Ryan’s arm.

“Shut your mouth, it’s Gabe’s turn,” Frank said.

Gabe jumped up as if he had only just realized it when Frank said so. He took a paper from the bowl and sat with a grin on his face that quickly faded once he looked at the paper.

“Damn, I wanted a dare,” Gabe said. “Uh. ‘Tell us about your worst sexual experience.’” Another group ooh and Gabe rubbed his chin for a moment. “Alright. We all know Hayley Williams, right?” Nods all around. “We were fooling around at a party and I fingered her which was all fine and whatever and she wanted to repay me with a blow job and, you know, cool.” William cleared his throat. “This was months ago and we were both fucking trashed,” Gabe said to his boyfriend. Then, blushing, he turned to the rest of the circle. “It was sloppy as hell. And she…well, she tried to deep throat me and she started gagging and…she threw up all over me.”

There was a moment of silence until Adam spoke up and said, “Like…on your…”

“Yes,” Gabe said and everyone laughed.

“A dare!” said William after he picked from the bowl. “‘Remove an article of clothing every time someone says what.’”

“What?” Gerard said, feigning confusion.

William tore off his sweater and shook his limbs, his skinny and pale torso and the v at his hips on display for everyone. A couple of people wolf whistled and Gabe looked at his boyfriend admiringly. Frank felt a giggling fit bubbling in his chest. William crossed his arms self-consciously. Frank could’ve swooned. What a cutie.

“I like this dare,” Gabe said.

“I think everyone does,” said Nate. There was a group murmur of agreement.

Bob’s turn. He sighed when he saw the paper, shaking his head. “Another dare,” he said. He was blushing. This would be good.

“I’m starting to think some people just put dares in,” Adam said.

“Oops,” said Pete with a shit-eating grin on his face, getting a smack from a laughing Mikey.

Bob stood and cleared his throat. “It says, ‘Give a lap dance to the person in the room you think is most attractive,’” he read.

“Alright, but make it quick and make it good,” Brendon said, leaning his hands back to hold the edge of the coffee table and spreading his legs a little.

There was laughter but Bob ignored it as he approached the loveseat. “Pete?” Bob said.

“What?” Pete said, still grinning.

All heads pivoted to William, who gingerly took off one of his socks with the toes of the opposite foot. Frank groaned as William lifted his leg, stretching his toes and rotating his ankle.

“A sock is not an article of clothing, you cheat!” Alex said.

“It’s fucking cold,” William defended.

“What can you do?” Brendon said with a shrug. And there went the other sock.

“I’m gonna need you to get off of Mikey…” Bob said, just softly enough that Frank almost missed it.

But everyone was looking over there now. Pete frowned and noticeably tensed. When he seemed to not be intending to move, everyone urged him to get out of the way. He got up and stood to the side, arms folded. Frank knew Mikey well enough to catch the twitch at the corner of his lips of a suppressed and potentially pleased smile. He didn’t tense like Pete did, just sat back and waited.

Gerard jumped from his seat and ran to his laptop on the dining room table, which was playing some Broadway show soundtrack. He put the volume up and after a few clicks the speakers released a reasonably raunchy tune of the type you hear in terrible porn. Bob rolled his eyes. Mikey just stared at the blond as everyone laughed.

“How do I even do this?” Bob said.

“Like you’re riding him but with clothes on,” Matt said.

Bob let out a long, displeased sigh. He sat in Mikey’s lap and started moving his hips in circles, grinding down to the rhythm of the song. Everyone jeered excitedly. After only a few seconds, Pete decided that it was enough and grabbed Bob’s arm, tugging him away then shoving. He sat down on the ground next to the loveseat and crossed his arms. It got quiet for a minute. Bob and Pete shared a look. Mikey crossed his legs, that familiar notsmile expression on his face. Gerard changed the music back to Broadway and Ray awkwardly reached for a paper.

“‘Do you spit or swallow?’” Ray read. The occasional chuckle had become so common that he didn’t miss a beat. “I spit.”

“Liar,” Frank said through his fit of giggles.

“Excuse me?” said Gerard as he walked back over.

“Hey, it’s your turn to pick!” said Ryan. Gerard glared as he reached into the bowl and sat back at his seat.

“‘Get yourself hard, but don’t get yourself off’?” he read. The reaction was split three ways: laughter, disgust, and pity. Frank’s was all three, as he chuckled and covered his mouth and shook his head. “Fuck you guys, I’m not doing that.”

“Don’t be the asshole that doesn’t do the dare!” Brendon whined.

“I’ll be any asshole I wanna be.”

“I can help,” Ray said, curling his hand around Gerard’s thigh.

“No you can’t,” Gabe said, staring at Ray with narrowed eyes until he pulled his hand away.

All eyes were on Gerard as he sat back (except for Mikey’s; he had his firmly covered with both hands). Gerard squeezed his legs together, his cheeks rosy, and closed his eyes. He took a deep breath. A few people broke into chuckles and he told them to shush. He unbuttoned his jeans and slipped his hand inside, raising his hips up to meet his hand and letting his mouth fall open. Needless to say it was hot as hell and probably the biggest invasion of privacy Frank thought he’d ever participated in.

“What are you thinking about, Gerard?” Frank whispered out of sincere, drunken curiosity.

William sighed and unbuttoned his own jeans, shimmying out of them without getting up from his seat. Gazes shifted toward him and Frank couldn’t quite handle seeing the shape of his cock through fucking SpongeBob boxers while Gerard shuddered against his own hand.

“Fuck off,” Gerard grumbled. Everyone laughed and William sat up a little straighter, smiling though he blushed.

“This is a fucked up dare, you guys are—” Mikey started to say, interrupted by Gerard’s startled moan.

“Sexy,” said Brendon, looking approvingly between a half-naked William and a hot and bothered Gerard, who buried his face against Ray’s shoulder and did up his jeans again. Adam leaned over and patted the apparent bulge of Gerard’s crotch experimentally, earning a smack from Ray. He gave the A-OK sign.

Alex stood up decisively and walked to the bowl.

“‘Would you marry the person sitting to your left?’” he read slowly.

A blush rose on his cheeks as he looked at Nate. There were a few things Frank knew about the Fueled By Ramen crew that he would forever be sure of: the Travis’ were weirdly talented and even more weirdly fond of each other, Ryan Ross was talentedly weird and fond of himself, and Nate Novarro was Alex’s life. It was adorable, really.

“Uhm…yeah,” Alex said. “Is that awkward? Should I not have—”

“It’s a game, Suarez, calm down,” William said.

“What rudeness!” Brendon said.

There was a sort of group gasp and everyone leaned forward in their seats. William frowned deeply at Brendon. He lifted his hips and pushed down his underwear, officially naked for everyone to see. Gabe beamed. Frank tilted his head to the side and stared with curious eyes. Nate grabbed a paper from the bowl.

“I have to spin in a circle, point, and make out with whoever I point to,” Nate said. He glanced at Alex for approval. Alex shrugged.

“That’s, like, a double dare,” Matt said.

“Hey, I had to make out with Frank and no one stopped me,” said Bob. Frank picked one of the scraps from the floor and threw it at him.

“More like you got to make out with Frank,” Brendon said. “There was grinding, I saw.”

“Frank’s just in a constant state of wanting to fuck.”

“I’m right here,” Frank said, crossing his legs to hide anything incriminating.

“You know what?” Gerard said. He got up and started out of the circle despite disappointed whines from the others. Gerard raised his arms in defense. “Fuck you guys. This is my apartment, I need to…”

Ray excused himself and ushered his boyfriend down the hall to the bedrooms, his arms already circling Gerard’s waist and his hands in a questionable place. For Frank, things got less funny and he couldn’t really think about being any amount of horny anymore. Nate kissed Ryan; Matt, who’d written William’s dare, gave him permission to put his clothes back on; Adam got a truth and alleged that out of everyone in the room he would fuck Matt but only because Gerard had left; Matt traded pants with Mikey, which was hilarious because Matt had gone commando and Mikey’s jeans were way too long. Mikey did the cinnamon challenge and everyone crossed the entrance to the kitchen to watch him choke. Pete was asked how he was.

“Not fucking well, actually,” Pete said. Mikey sighed.

“Don’t be a spoil sport,” Brendon said.

Frank picked at the loose ends at the bottom of his shirt. He couldn’t stop thinking about having kissed half the room or how Bob seemed to think that he always wanted sex. It didn’t bother him so much, it was just an interesting opinion that tried really hard to distract him from the distant but prominent sounds of moaning and the jealousy that he felt at hearing it.

“I think I’m done here,” Frank said. He thought about braving the storm for a cigarette.

“Yeah,” said Mikey, standing, as half the circle started to dissipate.

“No way!” Brendon said. “I haven’t gotten a chance to pick!”

A few stragglers went to the dining room table, dragging chairs along, to try the rest of the papers in the bowl. Eventually Ray and Gerard returned and Adam set up a movie for everyone else. Frank was starting to feel the post-dunk/pre-hangover state of sad, the shitty dark and existential shit that happens when not sufficiently distracted. And he was hungry. He listened to the howling wind from outside on his way to the kitchen. Cap’n Crunch. Please.

He was pouring the luscious little blips into a cup bowl when Mikey walked into the kitchen. Frank glanced over. Mikey’s hands were in his pockets and he was chewing on his lip.

“I’m sorry,” he said. He was still in Matt’s jeans that didn’t quite fit at the hip, button left open to accommodate and legs ending above his ankles. It was kind of hysterical but Frank was Unhappy and Mikey had been treating him like shit for no reason for a week so he put down his box and went for the soy milk in the fridge. “I’ve been really… I’ve been taking my anger out on you and that’s really shitty and unfair,” Mikey continued. “I’ve just been…feeling a little crazy, you know? With Gerard being mad at me and with the constant fights with Pete. I didn’t want you to see me like that.”

“You’re an asshole,” Frank said, pouring his milk onto his cereal. He put the milk away before continuing, staring at Mikey as he picked up the bowl.

Mikey looked more or less expectant, as if waiting for whatever shit Frank was going to spew to get back at him. Truth was that Mikey’s half-assed apology would do for him in the state he was in. Besides, he was just relieved (surprised, even) that Mikey had apologized. He was ready to wallow in self-pity over losing a friend but here Mikey was at Frank’s mercy, ready for a verbal lashing.

“You’re my best fucking friend,” Frank said. He picked a spoon from the dish rack and stuck it in his bowl. “It’s in my job description to see you at your worst.”

“I love you,” Mikey said, beaming.

“Funny you should mention that. I told Ray I loved him. Like, capital-L.”

Frank blurted that out before really thinking about it. He hadn’t told anyone and it was bubbling in his chest with every awkward interaction he had with Ray. He felt like an idiot, a sad, shitty, lovesick idiot, and he’d been alone with it for days.

“How did that go?” Mikey asked, sounding a little amused.

Frank looked around the corner, at Gerard on the couch leaning back against Ray’s chest. They were both grinning at the screen, some fucking just-had-sex grin, and Frank sighed.

“Kill me,” said Frank. Mikey walked over and kissed his cheek, then rubbed his arm. That was good too.

Just then Pete turned into the kitchen from the hall. He had a somber expression on his face. Frank moved back into the kitchen and leaned against the wall to eat and unsubtly eavesdrop.

“Hey, baby,” Mikey said, getting his arms around Pete.

They kissed like it was what they were placed on this earth to do and Frank felt like he was witnessing something magical. Still, the tension was there in the way they held each other as they pulled apart.

“I’m gonna go down to Chris’s for a jam session,” Pete said. “You can stay.”

Pete glanced at Frank and then they were whispering, soft and conversational morphing to apologetic and then Mikey groaned and pulled away from Pete’s reaching hands.

“Pete—”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have t—”

But Pete left without allowing another word to be spoken. Mikey leaned against the fridge, sighing full of frustration, and frowned at Frank.

“We’re working on it,” Mikey insisted. Frank shrugged and offered Mikey his cereal. They could talk about it some other time.

***

Ironically, the Friday after the winter storm was the start of spring break. Frank’s mom’s car was buried under snow so Frank got an offer to carpool home—with Ray. Frank stood to the side in the freshmen parking lot biting his glove-clad finger as Ray heaved their bags into the trunk of the car.

“And you’re sure it’s not too out of your way?” Frank asked for what could easily have been the 10th time in just the past hour. “I really could take the Metro North…and Path…and everything in between.”

“Shut up,” Ray said with finality. He pointed. “Passenger’s seat.”

There was no turning back now. Frank smiled and took his seat and soon they were headed south, a Metallica CD playing through the speakers. They’re quiet, as if a 3-hour trip home wouldn’t be enough to get them talking again. They hadn’t spoken much in the last week not because of any animosity, really, but because of general awkwardness and mild annoyance. Surely Ray wouldn’t have offered Frank the ride if he was in any way upset. Or maybe he was just being the cute, extremely caring guy that would look past a dispute to help any mildly decent human being. And that was part of why Frank loved him. Whether or not the love was romantic was still up to debate.

They got stuck in traffic, because fucking everyone was going south Friday afternoon to get away from the snow and down to the spring break southern weather. Frank thought to start a casual conversation, pluck a question about plans for the break out of the bag of potential ice breakers. But Ray, who’d been driving with a frown on his face, sighed loudly and looked at Frank.

“I figured out why he wanted an open relationship,” Ray said quickly, his brow furrowing as if he’d immediately regretted speaking.

“Oh?” said Frank.

“You know Gerard’s roommate, Matt’s bandmate Adam?”

Frank’s eyebrows went right up. A few things that happened at their impromptu sleepover on Wednesday started to make sense. “No shit.”

“Yeah.”

“And you’re not okay with that?”

Ray shrugged. He leaned back as his car crawled forward then frowned at Frank when they stopped again. “I guess I got a taste of my own medicine and I don’t like it,” Ray said. “I’m a hypocrite and a shitty boyfriend.”

Frank shook his head. He wanted to point out the fact that Gerard was having a hard time accepting Frank into their relationship or that Ray owned up to bad things he did instead of pretending like he never hurt Gerard or that Ray cared, at the moment, more about Gerard’s happiness than his own comfort. Instead he waited for the snailing car to stop again, leaned over, turned Ray’s head toward him with two fingers on his jaw, and kissed him firmly on the lips. He hoped it was comforting, somehow, because the whole situation was just convoluted enough that he had no clue what to say to make it less shitty. But Ray kissed back, bringing a hand to Frank’s neck and holding him there until car horns signaled another shuffle forward in the traffic.

***

The snow melted quickly as Mother Nature caught up to the fact that spring had, in fact, started. By the start of the next week Frank had done his rounds, hanging out with every high school friend he could find that still cared a lick about him, and finally decided he needed a day to just bum around his house. He was plucking away at his guitar, lying in bed and murmuring potential lyrics to himself, when his mom walked by in her nurse’s uniform and rasped her knuckles on Frank’s open door.

“Your old friend from high school is here,” said Frank’s mom, Linda. Frank lowered his guitar to the ground and sat up in bed, stretching.

“I’ve got a lot of those, mom, you’ve got to be specific,” Frank retorted.

“That handsome one that’s in the army? He was at the wedding last month.” Frank’s face fell and he was frozen in place. “Welcome him to anything in our kitchen! I’ll be home late!”

Frank’s heart rate rose from resting to marathon in a few seconds and he didn’t know what to do. When Linda’s steps started again, he jumped up and ran out into the hallway. He caught his mother’s arm and dragged her to his bedroom. She looked at him with confusion. His hands were shaking as he rung them together and Linda watched his movements with big, concerned eyes.

“Make him leave,” Frank said sternly, his voice small.

“I saw you with him at the wedding, I thought—” Linda began and Frank shushed her. He was tense all over and he felt nauseous just knowing that Ernest was downstairs.

“It’s a long story, okay, but please make him leave.”

Though seemingly startled, Linda nodded. She left and Frank sat at the edge of his bed. He heard Ernest raising his voice, heard heavy steps up the stairs, Linda’s gentle rejection. Then the front door slammed shut and light steps moved upstairs. Frank’s bedroom door opened and he startled, closing his eyes when he realized it was Linda standing there alone.

“He’s gone,” Linda said. Frank sighed, breathing hard.

“Good,” he said.

Frank reached for his guitar with shaking hands and a nervously thrumming heartbeat. He couldn’t quite get his hands to do what he wanted. Why was he freaking out like this? Linda walked over as Frank failed to play some chords, his grip on the guitar neck nonexistent. He set his guitar aside and dug his palms into his eyes, rocking forward.

“You need to go to work,” Frank said, before Linda could even ask whatever question she had brewing.

“I can st—” Linda started. Frank was quick to interrupt her again.

“W-we’re tight for m-money as it is. J-just go, I’ll be f-fine.”

Linda hesitated as she laid her hand on Frank’s back. She rubbed his back as he rocked slightly, thinking about Ernest yelling at his mother and demanding to see Frank. After a few minutes, however, he was soothed, and Linda kissed his temple before promising to get back as soon as she could. Frank put his guitar away and went to sleep.

A few hours later, Frank’s mom came back from work in the middle of the night. Frank’s sleeping schedule had gone to shit back home so he made some quick pasta and they ate at the table, Linda still in her nurse’s uniform. She spoke about a child that had been cancer-free for a year and gave her a lollipop to celebrate. Frank listened and smiled and waited, swinging his legs under the chair. When there was a lull in their conversation, Linda sighed.

“Was I wrong to assume?” she said. “About that young man from earlier.”

Frank looked down at the bloody bowties on his plate and cleared his throat. “We dated in high school,” he said. He was having trouble breathing again just thinking about it. “But we had a sort of…messy break-up? And if he ever comes to see me again, could you…”

“I’ll definitely brush him off sooner if he comes again.”

“Thank you.”

Frank had always found it amazingly easy to talk to his mom. She didn’t seem to assume anything bad about him and she cared. She listened and she chastised but she got what was going on in Frank’s head, most of the time. Frank never told her what happened with Ernest, one of the few things he didn’t speak with her about. And she never noticed because she was always fighting with his dad at the time. Ernest saved him from that, only to lead him to another pitfall.

“Are you going to tell me what happened?” Linda asked softly. Frank shook his head. Linda sighed. “I’m sorry we didn’t pay enough attention to you in high school. I always feel like there’s something you’re not telling me that’s hurting you.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Frank choked out. He only really spoke to a couple guidance counselors vaguely about it, Ray fleetingly, and Mikey in so much detail it had exhausted his “talk about” quota for maybe five years.

“I think you can handle it,” Linda said gently. “But you’re still my baby. And I will snap the neck of anyone that hurts you.”

Frank laughed. He didn’t have a doubt in his mind that she would. And even though Frank didn’t know how to tell her about it, just the thought that she would do anything for him made the tight ball between his ribs loosen a bit.

***

The next few days, Mikey tried vehemently to get Frank to hang out but there was no way Frank was leaving his house or having anyone over that didn’t live a few blocks down and therefore wouldn’t be disrespected by getting kicked out within the half hour. It took all his willpower to even shower, let alone answer Mikey’s phone calls. It wasn’t happening. Until, of course, Mikey decided to make it happen.

“Hi,” Mikey said, standing outside Frank’s door.

“A two-hour drive,” said Frank.

Mikey pushed his way past Frank. “You needed me.”

Mikey was unsurprisingly intuitive for a quiet guy, always the observer, and even in their phone calls he detected something was wrong. In constantly trying not to think about Ernest, Frank ended up constantly thinking about Ernest and that could have easily bled through their conversations. But as intuitive as Mikey was, he wouldn’t make a two-hour drive to be Frank’s shoulder to cry on. There was an ulterior motive; Mikey needed Frank too.

“You first,” Frank said.

Mikey took a deep breath. Frank sat on the couch, cross-legged and facing Mikey, ready for a story. Mikey let out the breath in a sigh and nodded, turning to his best friend.

“Pete and I broke up,” he said.

Frank couldn’t even feign surprise. “That sucks,” he said in a monotone he could have only picked up from Mikey.

“You’re not gonna ask why?”

“I’m done trying to figure you guys out.”

“I can live without him,” Mikey said, matter-of-factly. He wasn’t even looking at Frank, just staring at a spot on the ground with wide eyes. “And I’m gonna have to.” He looked at Frank for confirmation. “He’s from Chicago.”

“Right,” said Frank. He wasn’t convinced.

“Right?”

“Your logic is always skewed, Mikey. Besides, all that matters now is that I owe Ray 20 bucks.”

The bets were still on, as terrible as it was, and Frank was a fierce gambler. He’d already lost money to Ryan and Dewees, and people had lost money over his personal life. It was a dumb game they played to get away with being gossipy jerks. Mikey didn’t participate but was usually amused. The exasperated sigh and eye roll from Frank that came with the admission of defeat didn’t seem to do it for him this time.

“What?” Mikey snapped, looking offended.

“He bet you guys would break up before April,” Frank said, face falling. “I said you’d last until at least finals week. I lost.” Mikey stared with his mouth hanging open, almost comically offended. “What? You thought these were funny before!”

“Well this one isn’t.”

Mikey crossed his arms, crossed his legs, and looked away. Again, very childish and uncharacteristic of him but Frank was riding anxiety for days and having lost Mikey already this semester, the possibility of upsetting him made Frank feel even worse.

“You broke up with Pete,” Frank said.

“Doesn’t mean I can’t be upset about it,” Mikey said, after a fleeting glance.

“You’re right. I’m sorry.”

Mikey didn’t respond. Frank moved his hand between Mikey’s shoulders, rubbing comfortingly, hoping for a response. Mikey glanced over and Frank beamed. He was ready to apologize again, stricken with nerves by even the possibility of losing him over such a dumb thing, a feeling that Frank knew didn’t really make sense. But Mikey turned toward him completely and leaned in close. Frank widened his eyes, somehow finding his arm around Mikey’s neck, as their faces got closer. He leaned away. What the hell was happening? Frank was going to ask but Mikey just kissed him, right on the lips, like it wasn’t anything beyond normal.

It was sort of forceful, which Frank liked and expected from Mikey though not from the situation. Mikey pressed forward as their lips moved, his hands on Frank’s chest like he wanted to hold his ribs. Frank landed with a thud and a grunt, on his shoulders on the armrest. Mikey didn’t let their lips part for more than a second, getting a moan out of Frank when he returned with ardor to the kiss. Frank didn’t understand why this was happening – was Mikey having a vulnerable moment? – but he wasn’t going to stop it. Frank’s hand moved back across Mikey’s shoulders, the other to his hip where his sharp hipbone peeked out from between the top of his jeans and the bottom of his shirt. Mikey laid his body fully on top of Frank, snaking an arm around his waist to hold him close. Frank found himself getting just as forceful and needy and he was so confused and content.

Mikey’s other hand moved from Frank’s torso, up to his neck. Frank gasped and Mikey bit his lip, stroked his tongue over the mark when Frank moaned, and gently pressed his fingers against Frank’s neck. Frank squirmed, not even thinking about it as he tugged Mikey’s hip down. They kissed again, like they were angry and maybe Frank was, a little, but he was also a little horny and his gasps and Mikey’s chuckles didn’t matter when Mikey teased choking him.

When Mikey pulled away almost entirely, getting slowly to his knees but letting his hands linger in Frank’s chest, Frank whimpered. He arched against Mikey’s fingers, aching to have him on top of him again. They looked at each other. Mikey smiled admiringly.

“You owe me 20 bucks,” he said, and sat back on the couch.

Frank blinked at the ceiling. He sat up and frowned at his friend, who was grinning at the opposite wall. “Excuse me?” Frank said.

“I bet Ray that I could make out with you for 4 minutes without you stopping it or questioning it aloud,” Mikey said. He was looking at a clock on the wall. “Only rule was that you had to be sober. And you are. So I won.” Frank closed his eyes and lied back down as Mikey went on. “And since you owe Ray 20 bucks and Ray owes me 20 bucks, we can just cut the middle man.”

“I hate you both,” Frank said. He turned over onto his side, squeezing his legs. “You know, I would appreciate it if you didn’t get me all worked up to do nothing about it.”

“I could,” Mikey said. “I’m not shy. Want me to blow you?”

Frank stretched his leg out, kicking Mikey off the couch. Mikey tugged on Frank’s ankle as he got back on the couch and Frank laughed. He was really more concerned with why Ray would make such a bet.

“You know, what you have with Ray is practically a polyamorous relationship,” Mikey said, crossing his arms. “I mean, they’ve got an open relationship but literally you’re the only person doing anything with it. It’s very exclusive.”

“Gerard’s fucking Adam,” Frank said, a little suspiciously. He didn’t even trust Mikey’s opinion on the matter anymore.

“Well, that doesn’t count.”

Frank sat up again. “Why?”

“He’s been fucking around with Adam since they were freshmen.” Frank’s mouth fell open. Oh, that was juicy. Mikey glanced at Frank and startled. “Don’t tell Ray I told you that,” he said. Frank kicked Mikey again and Mikey smacked his leg away. “I mean, he never cheated on Ray that I know of so it doesn’t really matter.”

Frank nodded. He moved to cross his legs, watching Mikey carefully. Mikey’s eyebrows went up, as if to ask _is that what was on your mind_? He wasn’t intuitive enough, but it was a subject that interested Frank. He got points for that.

“Ernest came to see me,” Frank said.

Mikey’s expression contorted into anger, a fierce look Frank had never seen on his face. It soon softened and he frowned. “What’d he do?” he said. Frank stared at Mikey’s chest, willing the achy feeling of distress and desire he’d been feeling for days to disappear. Mikey turned his head and said, “Wanna make out again?”

Frank laughed, startled by the question. One of those glorious, genuine Mikeyway smiles appeared on Mikey’s face as he motioned Frank over. He lied down and Frank fell into his chest, breathing in that weird familiar smell of coffee and burnt rubber as they hugged. That achy feeling did go away, with the tight squeeze of Mikey’s arms as they lay on the couch for hours. Mostly silent and still, except for when they shared chaste kisses on cheeks and necks and noses.

***

The Wednesday morning after spring break was April Fool’s Day. This knowledge would be almost entirely unnecessary except for the fact that that very morning in suite L325, an interesting thing happened that could’ve been classified as a prank. And it should’ve been but it wasn’t and Frank didn’t know what to do with the information.

That Tuesday, the night before, Frank had been sexiled to the couch (a post-it on his bedroom door read: “Do not enter unless you want to see me fuck someone – Bob”). Frank woke up on April Fool’s Day wishing he had access to his damn toothbrush and dragging his feet to the bathroom. He leaned over one of the three sinks, keeping one between him and the other person in the bathroom who was leaning close to the mirror.

He didn’t notice who it was right away, too groggy to give a damn, but when it became apparent he almost had a heart attack.

“Do you have mouthwash?” Mikey asked. Frank startled, looking at Mikey with wide eyes.

“What are you doing here?” Frank asked.

“I was…with Bob,” Mikey said, as if having realized halfway through what Frank’s reaction to that statement would be. Frank’s jaw dropped as he made sense of it. Mikey cleared his throat. “Never mind, I can cross the quad with bad breath. It’s fine.”

“You split up with someone from Chicago because of the distance,” Frank whispered, glancing at the shower doors, “so you started fucking someone from Chicago?!”

Mikey shrugged. “You know it’s more than that. Pete could never commit, he is so insecure.”

“So you’re fucking his suitemate because…?”

Frank followed Mikey out into the hallway, his entire face contorted with confusion and shock. Mikey turned on his heels before they could get within eye shot of the common area.

“You want me to say that I did it to spite him,” Mikey hissed. Frank nodded quickly. “No. Me and Bob have a class together. And not that it’s your business but come on. You’d hit that.”

Frank opened his mouth to respond but instead raised his arms in defeat. He _would_ hit that. They walked together to the common area and stopped short when Ray, Gabe, and Dewees, scattered on the couch, gasped in shock at the sight of Mikey. Pete did not; he was on the ground with his laptop and he smiled a very fake smile.

“Hey Mikey,” said Pete. “Fuck another one of my suitemates?”

“Yes,” Mikey said, crossing his arms.

“Totally not to spite him,” said Frank. He walked passed Mikey after receiving a glare from him then squeezed between Ray and Gabe, who were playing some game with guns, on the couch.

“Who in this suite haven’t you slept with?” Pete asked.

“Ray,” said Mikey.

Ray nodded proudly. Frank had never been more relieved in his life. Then Gabe paused the game. And in a few seconds they all made the calculations. Pete, duh. Frank, yeah. Bob, Gabe…uh-huh. No Ray. That accounted for all but one fuckable suitemate. All eyes slowly shifted to the loveseat, where Dewees was staring nervously at a textbook. He looked up, first at Mikey and then, with fear, at Pete.

“Dude I was drunk at a party and he just got on his knees for me, I don’t know,” Dewees said, shrinking into his seat.

“Well, he does like being on his knees,” Pete said, turning back to his ex-boyfriend.

Gabe went _oooohh_ and grinned at Mikey, waiting for a response. Frank was, admittedly, slightly amused. Pete and Mikey were not especially nasty dudes so seeing the claws come out was interesting to say the least. It was also kind of sad. He never thought he’d see those two be bitter toward each other.

“Yeah I fucking do,” said Mikey, eyes locked on Pete.

A door down the hall slammed shut and a few seconds later a groggy Bob in pajamas appeared behind Mikey, who turned to him immediately. He grabbed Bob and kissed him. Really kissed him like an about-to-board-this-plane, it’s-raining-and-this-was-always-real, I’m-trying-to-make-my-ex-jealous kiss.

“See you guys later,” Mikey said as he pulled away gasping. He left and Gabe didn’t unpause the game, continuing the group eavesdropping on this little love triangle.

“What, you gonna stop talking to me for three weeks?” Bob said to Pete.

“No!” Pete said, standing up. “No, no… You…you have your fun!” He stalked to the door and slammed it open. “I hope you don’t get any STDs.”

It slammed shut again and Bob rubbed his eyes in frustration. He sat against the wall and stared at the TV screen, his hands folded and his knees held close to his chest by his arms. It was silent for a time. Ray took Frank’s wrist and drew tickly circles in his palm.

“Either that was the world’s most elaborate prank or Mikey just can’t keep it in his pants,” Gabe said, breaking the silence.

“I can assure you it wasn’t a prank,” Bob said.

Gabe chuckled. “Nice.”

He unpaused the game and Ray let Frank’s wrist go.

***

“Are we allowed to go on dates?” Frank said, softly. More for sexiness than necessity. “Cuddle and watch movies, make out on the staircase on our way to pick up our laundry?”

He was sitting between Ray’s legs on the library’s linoleum floor. Ray manned the desk, late night; it was almost 2am, closing time, and Frank had dropped by to visit and stayed. Ray typed away as Frank spoke to him about whatever. Sports he didn’t watch, music he didn’t like, and now their relationship. It had occurred to him that it was a weird mix of pre-relationship crushing—with the shy touches and the chaste kisses and the dumb blushing—and honeymoon phase raucous sex—with the bruises on Frank’s hips and the way his ass would be sore for days and he loved it. It had been weeks since the last time, though, and it had been an exhausting day.

“You know, Gerard was never really specific about that,” Ray grumbled. He was typing away at the computer, moving books from pile to pile, and distractedly responding to Frank’s silly questions.

Frank turned slightly, staring at Ray’s knee. He thought about what Mikey said, because he always fucking thought about what Mikey said, and about how Gabe could seamlessly date two people. “Are you my boyfriend?” Frank asked, shocking even himself with the question.

“I’m Gerard’s boyfriend,” Ray said, matter-of-factly.

Frank sighed happily as Ray combed his large fingers through Frank’s long hair. Maybe that was a conversation for later, when Ray’s crotch wasn’t so close and Frank wasn’t so deliriously sleep-deprived and needy. “Will you choke me?” he said with a rasp in his voice, again going for sexy. “Will you choke me while I ride you?” He turned slightly to stare at Ray’s crotch. “You want me to fuck you with that big, bumpy dildo that you like again?”

Ray squirmed uncomfortably and Frank smiled. “I’m trying to work,” he said.

Frank turned completely, on his knees under the desk facing the glorious bulge in Ray’s jeans. He inhaled to hold back a whimper. He heard steps behind him; passersby couldn’t see him beyond the counter and Frank raked his fingers up Ray’s thighs. When the footsteps were gone Frank stroked Ray with purpose, moving so he was half in Ray’s lap so he could kiss his crotch. Ray laughed and leaned away, causing Frank to lose balance as the chair wheeled back.

“The library is closing in a few minutes,” Frank said, shimmying forward on his knees. “There’s no one around. I could blow you right now. No one would know.”

“Back at the suite, okay?” Ray said. Frank sat back down. So they were still fucking. Ray moved forward again.

“I’m yours, you know,” Frank said. He leaned his head on Ray’s leg. “That silly bet with Mikey doesn’t prove whatever it is you want it to prove.”

“There was no ulterior motive,” Ray said. “It was a bet.”

Frank looked up questioningly. After a minute, Ray sighed and leaned back in his chair. He glanced at his watch. He looked back at Frank, finally, and grinned.

“Really,” Ray said. He rolled back enough that he could lean down to kiss Frank, brief but with promise and honesty. Frank suspected only Ray could kiss like that.

So maybe the bet wasn’t some kind of test of Frank’s loyalty. Maybe it really would always be Gerard and Ray…and Frank. Everyone thought him and Mikey were weirdly close; Ray was just testing that. It made sense. Still, he felt a little like he’d failed a test or failed Ray. Cheated on him, somehow.

Frank kissed Ray’s knee as he stood up. It was 2am. Closing time. Ray went to the head librarian upstairs and signed out, leaving Frank to wait by the doors. Ray hooked arms with Frank on their way out, kissed his temple, and started toward the freshmen dorms.

“I’m yours,” Frank murmured again, not entirely fond of the realization.

Ray walked around him and hugged him from behind. They wobbled the rest of the way to their dorm.

***

Spring was in the motherfucking air and Frank met Mikey at a table outside for lunch Sunday afternoon. Midterms were over so another nice day should mean lunch outside. With Pete out of the picture, Frank and Mikey were spending a lot of time together again. It would make Frank happy if it weren’t for the fact that Mikey seemed mostly miserable.

“I’m fucking my roommate,” Mikey said, softly enough that Frank almost missed it. He hastily ate a bunch of French fries, avoiding eye contact.

“I thought you were fucking my roommate,” Frank said. He slurped his soda and waited for Mikey to respond.

“I am.”

Frank raised his eyebrows. He looked down when Mikey looked up. He didn’t care about who slept with who but Mikey was a special case. He hoped this would be another one of those “I just needed to say it” things and they wouldn’t delve any deeper. It was the last topic Frank wanted to touch, Mikey’s sex life.

“I’m not a whore like everyone says,” Mikey said. He wiped his mouth with a napkin and leaned back on the metal seat. “I’m just comfortable with my sexuality and that’s okay.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Frank grumbled into his veggie burger.

“You were thinking it.”

Frank shook his head, finished chewing before responding, “Now you know what I’m thinking?” Because, really, that wasn’t what he was concerned about.

“That sexual partners don’t have to be exclusive.”

Mikey had his arms folded and his chin high. Frank didn’t need the act. He slurped more soda and Mikey gave him a face, a subtle twitch that told Frank that yes they were getting into this topic and now he would not get away with shrugging it off. Full attention was needed. So he sighed, looked away from his perfectly good lunch, and folded his hands.

“Why are you trying to justify yourself to me?” Frank asked.

“I…need to justify myself to someone,” said Mikey, looking down.

“I just hope you’re doing it because you’re comfortable with your sexuality and not because you’re lashing out or stopped taking your medication.”

Frank went for a fry, which he immediately regretted. Mikey’s folded arms tightened, his mouth falling open and his eyebrows knitting together. It was just like the anger Frank saw over spring break, when he mentioned Ernest, but this wasn’t at all contained and seemed ready to break into something worse.

“What?” Mikey said, so much venom and hurt in his voice that Frank was genuinely afraid of some retaliation.

“Gerard said—” Frank tried to say, but Mikey was quickly fuming.

“It has nothing to do with that!” he shouted. Frank looked on in shock as Mikey stood, his voice hoarse probably from lack of being used how it was now. “I’m not incapable of rational decisions while off my pills!”

Frank grasped for straws, unsure of how to fix this one. Mikey looked so hurt. Fuck, Frank was scum. Calling him out on his mental illness was probably worse than just calling him a slut. “I just want to make sure—”

“And you are not my keeper and neither are Gerard or Pete,” Mikey interrupted again. He closed the lid on his salad and threw it into a plastic bag.

“Mikey, I—”

Frank, again, failed to say anything as Mikey’s anger became more pronounced. He got up close to Frank’s face, his face red and eyes glassy, and shoved Frank’s shoulders.

“Fuck. Off,” Mikey said through his teeth and before Frank knew it he’d stormed off, leaving him all alone on this beautiful day.

***

Frank sat close to Ray on the couch for family dinner that Wednesday. Not because of any necessity or desire. They’d fucked a few days ago but Frank had been kind of distant since the fight with Mikey, which still hadn’t been resolved, so he’d kept away from mostly everyone and focused on his schoolwork. It was Ray that sat next to Frank and hung his arm around his shoulders. Dewees and Bob were discussing drumming techniques against the coffee table across from them while Gabe and Pete were gone to pick up their takeout from the parking lot.

“What’s wrong?” Ray asked Frank, that concern almost comforting. Frank shrugged. “Okay, you don’t wanna talk about it. I’ll share my eggroll with you.”

Frank grinned. He looked at Ray, who smiled brightly. “Am I a bad person?” Frank asked.

“Everyone has a little good and a little bad.” Ray crossed his arms and chewed his lip. Frank sighed and craned his neck away, annoyed with himself for being an asshole and an idiot. “But personally, you know, I think you’ve got more good than bad.”

“Thanks for not lying to me,” Frank grumbled, slumping against the couch.

“I’m trying to get better at being honest with you.”

Before Frank could ponder the meaning of Ray’s latest crypticness, Dewees hopped up and sat in the loveseat. He leaned close, looking at Frank and Ray intensely. Bob laughed and shook his head as he took his spot on the ground closer to the coffee table.

“Pete’s dating Ashlee Simpson,” Dewees said. Ray made a whistling sound and Frank’s jaw dropped. “Gabe just texted me. They bumped into her and he made out with her and Gabe lost his shit because, you know, she’s like way out of his league.”

“Which Simpson sister is that one?” Ray asked. “The dumb blonde or the one that dyes her hair too much?”

“Uh…the one that went to karaoke night at the Dent last semester and totally bombed,” said Bob.

“Okay, the hair dye,” Ray said. Frank went into a giggling fit as the front door to their suite opened. “She’s hot, at least, I’ll give you that.”

“What are you guys talking about?” Pete asked.

At first, no one replied. Pete and Gabe lowered the bags of Chinese food onto the coffee table and Pete looked at Ray with curious eyes.

“We were talking about your new girlfriend,” Dewees said.

Pete looked at his roommate as if he’d been utterly hurt and betrayed, though Gabe just shrugged. They started handing out their suitemates’ orders. Frank was itching to call his best friend but he knew Mikey would never pick up.

“I swear to God if you guys butt into my love life again—” Pete started, grumbling under his breath as he sat by the coffee table, but Frank interrupted him.

“I just always thought it’d be you and Mikey, you know?” Frank said.

The other boys made sounds of agreement. Gabe nodded profusely as he carried his dumplings to the spot on the couch next to Ray. Pete slowly uncrossed and re-crossed his legs, frowning as he looked around at his silent suitemates. He seemed resigned and he took a deep breath before expressing his reply.

“I always thought it’d be you and Ray,” Pete said, shrugging.

Frank looked at Pete, startled, who only grinned as he ate his rice. Then he glanced at Ray. There was a blush on his face as he pointedly avoided eye contact. Neither of them said anything. Ray dropped half an eggroll onto Frank’s plate.

***

All midterms being over meant was that finals were going to crawl up outta nowhere soon and between that and fighting with Fall Out Boy for the opening spot at Savage Fest, Frank was all manners of freaking out. He sat at his desk Friday afternoon with his Red Bull and his popcorn, his phone fully charged for distracting silly or sexy texts from Matt (although really for calling his mom if he really started to panic), his laptop geared for some research. The last band practice had been tense, with Mikey barely speaking or participating in song writing and avoiding Frank altogether but damn it Frank had a paper to write and he couldn’t dwell right now.

Frank’s bedroom door was left shut but unlocked with the understanding that only emergencies and Bob Bryars could go over the threshold. Neither did, in the form of Mikeyway. Frank had been on a roll in his research, which never happens, and his anger with himself because of Mikey was up in the air. Basically, he was not in the mood and that’s how you ruin friendships.

“I tried to stop him!” shouted Gabe’s voice from the common area, followed by laughter from Ray as more explosions sounded from the television.

“I need to show you something,” Mikey said, breathless as the door slammed against Bob’s closet.

“Take a number,” Frank deadpanned.

Evidently, Mikey didn’t take kindly to being brushed off like that. He shoved something into Frank’s face and Frank turned, moving his head away to get a good look at it. Lithium carbonate. The refill date, which Mikey was pointing to with his thumb, read April 8th. A couple days ago.

“I haven’t stopped taking my pills,” Mikey said, his voice and hand shaky.

Frank looked up at his friend. Mikey’s nose was red, his eyes moist and his jaw locked. He stuck the pill bottle into his back pocket and took a step back, his fists tight in frustration. Frank didn’t know how to respond. Mikey was hurt but Frank still didn’t feel wrong. He’d been so anxious lately that this was not an encounter he was ready to handle. And maybe he was a little annoyed, too, that their friendship had become this weird mood swing of Frank being vilified for accidentally saying the wrong thing.

“So my sluttiness is just a character flaw, not a mess up in my brain chemistry,” Mikey said, his voice hoarse.

“Mikey…” Frank started, unsure of what to say.

“You’re not a saint, Frank. You’ve fucked the same amount of people as me. But I’m the mentally ill one so I get criticized.”

Frank’s mouth fell open. So Mikey was taking shots. Frank could do that. He was exhausted by this unnecessary tug-of-war and he had his own damn problems to deal with, he didn’t need another one in the person he thought wouldn’t ever be one again.

“You use sex for revenge—” Frank said, aiming low, only to be interrupted again.

“You use it to feel better about your shitty life!” Mikey shouted.

Frank took another deep breath. Mikey was practically vibrating with anger, every muscle seemingly tense and his neck growing flush. He was on the verge of tears, Frank could tell, but Frank was imploding with his own emotions and he wouldn’t hear this from Mikey. It was a bad idea, especially once he noticed the video game had been paused, but he just let it happen.

“I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings,” Frank said through clenched teeth.

“If,” Mikey grunted.

“But everyone is always going to judge what you do if you’re prescribed pills for a mental disorder while chronically doing coke.”

Frank thought it would make him feel better to hurt Mikey and for a moment it did. But then he caught the way Mikey’s face contorted with pain and almost started to regret it. Mikey took a step back, hand on his stomach, and looked around the room, stumbling as if dizzy.

“I know you don’t like talking about those things—” Frank murmured.

“Do you ever wonder why?” Mikey hissed. He scratched the back of his neck and wiped his nose. He covered his eyes and leaned against Frank’s closet door, hands shaking. “I’m an open book when it comes to you, you’re my best friend. But I never talk to you about my therapist and I try to stay away from you when I’m high. I never wanted you to think less of me because of those things I’m ashamed of. And you just threw them in my face.” Mikey dropped his hands, standing up straight and heading to the door. His eyes were red and puffy. Frank couldn’t believe he’d done that. “What if I did that to you?” Mikey croaked out.

Frank opened his mouth to speak, to find something sincere to fix this, and came up with a half-hearted, “I’m sorry.” He wasn’t sure what it was for and he knew it wouldn’t change a thing.

“I don’t care,” Mikey said. “I don’t fucking care.”

***

Saturday night, they took the Humanities building again. This time around, the team captains were Ray, Hayley, and Patrick. Heading the red team, Hayley picked Bob, Joe, Gabe, and Will. With green Ray picked Frank, Gerard, Vicky, and Andy. And rounding out the blue team with the rest, Patrick had Jamia, Nate, Alex, and Ryland.

“Let’s kick some ASS!” Ryland shouted in Patrick’s ear, to everyone’s amusement.

The teams were facing opposite directions: red, the main staircase; green, the southern staircase by the entrance; and blue, the northern staircase. On the count of three, the group of acquaintances held their Nerf guns ready and ran. Upstairs and down halls until the groups were huddled in silent corners by classroom doors.

Frank wouldn’t be here at all if Ray hadn’t dragged him over with the promise of an experimental sex position but he was glad that he was, already filled with adrenaline before the game’s really started. Seeing Ray man up and play the leader was more amusing than anything.

“Frank, you’re small and fast,” Ray said. Frank rolled his eyes. “Go to the third floor with Vicky. Me and Gerard will man the second.”

He pointed at every appropriate person and everyone nodded along at their instruction until he got to Gerard. Then they just stared at them. Frank imagined Ray with an ascot and Gerard in a purple dress.

“Gerard will go downstairs and I’ll help you man the second,” Andy said, adjusting the green bandana on his tattooed arm. Frank and Vicky burst into laughter.

“Whatever. Just be silent and deadly.”

“I did have beans for lunch.”

“That’s the kind of thing we keep to ourselves, Frank.”

So Vicky and Frank went upstairs to the top floor. They stayed close, almost back to back, and extended their guns the second they got through the door on the third floor. Then they started walking, a careful march toward the main staircase balcony.

“I hear you’re having boy trouble,” Vicky said softly, glancing at Frank.

“Kinda,” Frank said, unsure even himself what was going on anymore. Frank was really more concerned about Mikey but he was also safely pissed at him so there was no logic to any issue he was having.

They stayed close to the wall as they walked along. Vicky looked at Frank thoughtfully.

“Let ‘im go,” she said, simply.

“What?” Frank exclaimed as they approached the balcony.

Before Vicky got the chance to shush him, the _thwoop_ of Nerf guns being fired came from the stairs. They both dodged, then pointed their guns down at the perpetrators and shot. Hayley and Nate, men from different teams, ran further down the stairs and out of sight. Vicky and Frank exchanged a confused look and then she gasped. Frank felt the hit to his head before he could really acknowledge that Vicky was looking at something (someone) behind him. His first death.

Frank turned and shot and dodged and they started for the southern staircase again. Another shot, this time to the leg, and Frank swore. They turned a corner and made it to their staircase. Their territory. No entry without permission from someone on the team. They sat on the floor, breathless and chuckling.

“Being with Bill and Gabe?” Vicky said after a moment, continuing their conversation from earlier. “Hardest thing I’ve ever done.”

“Don’t you love them?” Frank asked, perplexed. According to Gabe, they were the three happiest people in the world.

Vicky smiled, a gorgeous smile that was marred by a sad shadow over her eyes. “It is never going to be as simple as answering that question.”

Together they got a few kills and sustained some of their own, high-fiving teammates and chasing friends around the old building. Vicky got out first; she told him not to tell a soul and he swore it would go to his grave what she’d divulged to him about her relationship. And then Frank died, sending a text to the Body Counter. He was the last of the green team to die. He went to the auditorium to hang out and wait with the other losers for red and blue to duke it out. Frank sat far away and alone, thinking of what Vicky had said, a little saddened for her and only more confused about Ray, and then he thought about Mikey. He’d think about it for a while and forgive Frank like always, right?

As it turned out, red and blue had gotten together and used their bigger numbers to gang up against green. Typical. Blue ended up winning, with Patrick’s strong leadership skills, and they laughed about his dodges on the way out of the building.

“Patrick, you fucking _owned_ ,” said Gabe, patting his friend on the shoulder.

Frank elbowed Patrick’s side when he blushed at the praise and everyone started to cheer his name. Patrick, overwhelmed, veered toward Frank and murmured in his ear. “D’you know why Pete didn’t come out tonight?” he asked.

“He hasn’t come out much at all,” Frank said, shrugging. He thought about it a little more. “Spends a lot of time in his room, actually.”

“That’s kind of worrying.”

“Why?”

The others went back to instant replays of the night’s Nerf game’s happenings. Patrick looked at his Nerf gun, eyebrows furrowed and frown deep. He started to say something then shook his head as if thinking better of it.

“Nothing,” he said. “Never mind, just…look out for him okay?”

“Oh, all…right,” Frank said. If Patrick was worried, there was reason to be worried. He was practically Pete’s twin separated at birth. “I mean, he must be bummed about getting dumped. Ashlee won’t last because she’s an obvious rebound and why are you looking at me like that?”

Patrick looked startled, and a little offended. “He broke up with Mikey,” he said.

“That’s not what Mikey said.”

“Then Mikey lied.”

It was obvious that they were both very defensive of their best friends. They narrowed their eyes at each other. The group was rounding the corner onto K street and the blue team got together for a celebratory cheer before dispersing. As they all parted ways, Frank following his suitemates to L street, he couldn’t help but wonder about Mikey and Pete. It didn’t matter who broke up with who or if Mikey lied. God, none of it mattered. It wasn’t his business. He took a deep breath, committing to that thought, and skipped ahead to relive the game with his friends.

***

Monday afternoon after class, Frank was called to the parking lot of junior village. It was an exceptionally gorgeous day so he didn’t mind the long walk but he didn’t understand its purpose. Frank walked up to Gerard once he saw him smoking and leaning against his shitty white van. Gerard, the ever-pretentious fine piece of crap, was wearing a leather jacket and sunglasses.

“I’m a little shocked that you called me,” Frank said as he approached. “I haven’t broken any rules with Ray, have I?”

Gerard ignored Frank’s comment as he put his cigarette out on the side of his van. Frank didn’t expect that to be the reason Gerard called with such an urgent need to talk to Frank. Other than Ray’s awkwardness and Frank’s annoyance, the relationships in this tangled web of horny dudes seemed to be running smoothly. Although, admittedly, Frank had been channeling his kink a lot more and Ernest jumped into his head when he and Ray did it but that was a freak out for another day.

“Do you know what’s wrong with Mikey?” Gerard asked earnestly, lifting his sunglasses to the top of his head.

“What?” Frank said. He felt like answering honestly would be like admitting to a crime. The truth was that he hadn’t been doing much thinking about Mikey at all. Giving him space, hoping for the eventual best. “No,” Frank said softly, ashamed of his answer.

Gerard looked at the cigarette butt on the ground. “That’s weird.”

“Why?”

“You guys are, like, best friends.”

Frank scoffed and leaned against the car, ignoring Gerard’s look of disapproval. “So what?” he said. “We’re guys.”

“Yeah but…I don’t know, Mikey’s the type to confide entirely in one person,” Gerard said. Frank’s eyebrows reached for the damn blue sky. “That person used to be me but ever since he met you he doesn’t really talk to me about stuff.”

“Oh…” Frank remembered something Mikey said, about Gerard being possessive, and it hit him like a ton of bricks. He looked at Gerard with wide eyes. “Is that why you hate me?” Gerard looked down shamefully and a stupid grin plastered itself onto Frank’s stupid face. He had made a grand discovery this afternoon. “It was never about Ray, was it?”

“Could you just please find out what’s going on?”

Frank stared in disbelief until Gerard narrowed his eyes at him. “Yeah,” Frank said, smirking. “Just for you, sweetheart.”

Frank touched Gerard’s arm, a terribly obvious sort of flirting thing that he hadn’t thought consciously of doing. Still he squeezed Gerard’s flabby bicep a little and let his fingers linger as he lowered his hand. Gerard looked at Frank questioningly and smiled.

“Ray would love that we’re finally getting along,” Gerard said. Unintentional flirting? Oh they were getting along, alright. Frank blushed at his shoes. Ray _would_ like that. Gerard cleared his throat before continuing, softly, “For the record, it was at least in part about Ray.”

Frank broke into a giggling fit. Gerard shoved him away, which only made Frank giggle even harder. It was just so odd to think that Gerard might not be that terrible a person. That he just held a dumb grudge against Frank for stealing his brother. After a moment, Frank took a deep breath and settled against the van again. Gerard didn’t seem to be going anywhere soon and Frank had nothing better to do.

“How often do you guys fuck?” Gerard asked, right out of the blue.

“Is that your business?” Frank asked, voice high with feigned offense taken.

“I’m just curious. You’re kinda hot and Ray is always happy after spending the night with you.”

Frank smirked as devilishly as he could, attempting to hide his immense pride, and turned to narrow his eyes at Gerard. “Only kinda hot?”

Gerard’s shit-eating grin was priceless. Frank had no idea where the Ways got the idea that they could just make out with him whenever but very suddenly Gerard was kissing him. His first sober kiss with Gerard was like his first sober kiss with Mikey—confusing though very pleasing, the right amount of force though a little unexpected. Frank was pleasantly surprised as Gerard pressed him against the vehicle, kissing him with total disregard to what passersby would say and what such an abrupt kiss even meant.

Then it occurred to Frank that this was against the dumb open relationship “rules.” Ray had explained that he or Gerard needed approval from the other before engaging in some sort of physical relationship with a third party. Had Gerard asked Ray prior to this move or was Frank digging a hole for himself like last semester?

The next moment they took a breath, Frank blurted. “Did you ever cheat on him?” he asked breathlessly. “Mikey said—”

Gerard’s immediate response was to groan and push off of Frank. He shook his head as he walked around to the driver’s side of his car. Frank followed, standing to the side as Gerard unlocked his car and climbed in.

“I knew what it was like to get cheated on even before Ray and I would never do that to him,” Gerard said, obviously upset by the accusation. “And this wasn’t cheating. I asked him.”

“Ruined the moment?” Frank said.

“Bye, Frankie.”

A moment later, Gerard had driven off. Frank returned to his suite, still wondering how such an abrupt kiss from spontaneous flirting could have previously been planned. When Ray came back to the suite from class, Frank wondered aloud if he’d ever get to kiss Gerard sober.

“Not while I’m around,” Ray replied, clicking away at his laptop. Very interesting.

***

Frank was on a couch in Couch Corner with Bob and some of Bob’s weird New Media major friends, talking about some film project they have due by the end of the semester and recruiting Frank to be in it, when Hayley Williams waltzed over with her arms crossed. They’d noticed her earlier, hanging around with her band and Gabe’s crew by the Pac-Man machine.

“Brian won’t consider us for Savage Fest because he likes you guys too much,” Hayley said, waving her arm in the direction Joe and Patrick were by the vinyls.

“Bummer!” Frank said. Bob, at the other end of the couch, was ignoring the conversation. “Next year then, shorty.”

“You’re one to talk, motherfucker!”

Frank narrows his eyes. “You’re a really ambitious girl, you’ll go places.”

Hayley let go of her crossed arms and beamed proudly. She reached down and tugged him into a hug. Frank loved this friendship.

“By the way, I hope Fall Out Boy gets the slot,” Hayley whispered in Frank’s ear, before skipping away and back toward the games.

“I love to watch you leave!” Frank called.

Knowing that Frank wasn’t a good skateboarder and that he didn’t mind falling a few times, Bob’s friends asked to see him struggle with a longboard. He didn’t know or care what it was for but it was fun, rolling between the two tables of vinyls and trying tricks once he was out of the aisle. He could move just fine, it was the simplest trick that made him lose his center of gravity. He went toppling to the ground again and again. Frank was so glad to be making easy money falling on the ground that he almost missed Pete confronting Bob.

“I know Mikey’s told you,” Pete said.

Bob, standing a few feet away and smoking, nodded without looking at Pete. “Yeah,” he said.

“You’re okay with that?”

“What’s going on?” one of Bob’s friends said.

Bob, being the director, needed to have his full attention on Frank’s falls and he wasn’t even looking at the playback being offered to him. Frank stood and brushed himself off, picking up the borrowed board. Bob turned his attention entirely to Pete.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Bob said. “I get that he has lingering feelings for you and as long as no one’s exclusive you guys can fuck around.”

Frank, and everyone within ear shot, reacted visibly to the revelation. Mikey was fucking Bob…and the ex he left to be with him? Frank didn’t even think him a slut at first, though the thought did eventually cross his mind. His immediate reaction was to lament the fact that he hadn’t heard this from Mikey himself.

“Well this is me letting you know that I’m ending that,” Pete said. He lowered his voice as he looked around but Frank could still hear. “You’re a good guy and I know you’re not like Gabe. You can and should have Mikey to yourself.”

They stared at each other for a moment, Pete’s expression one of resignation and Bob’s one of respect. After a moment, Bob sighed and replied, voice softer than normal. “I didn’t mean to steal him from you,” he said.”

“I barely ever had him,” Pete said, then turned and left.

Immediately Bob got everyone to focus on getting a good shot of Frank’s fall. Once Frank was aching enough, they got a shot of him touching his thighs painfully. Then they left the Dent at its closing time of 10PM (it’s a school night) and Frank was $30 richer, expecting $10 more if he bruised and came back the next night in the same clothes.

Yet he was a little conflicted about unrelated things. That interesting little argument Bob had with Pete made Frank wonder just how many people Mikey was sleeping with and how many Bob knew of. Frank didn’t care, in the end, as long as no one got hurt. Did Bob know about Vic? Should Frank try to find out?

They were halfway to their dorm when Frank decided. “You know Mikey’s roommate?” Frank asked.

“That metal head?” Bob asked, more confusion than recognition in his tone. There was no way he knew. Frank nodded. “What about him?”

Frank decided against saying anything and crushing him. Besides, from what Bob said in the Dent he wouldn’t really care. Neither should Frank.

“Nothing,” Frank said, taking out his keys as they approached the front door of their building. “You really like Mikey, don’t you?”

Hard-ass Bob Bryar huffed. “We are not having a heart-to-heart,” he said. Frank raised his hands in defeat and let them in. They walked up in silence but right before they entered the suite, Bob murmured, “Yeah, I really do.”

***

That Friday was the last show at the Dent before the Savage Arts Festival, exactly one week before the first day of the extravaganza. Fall Out Boy headlined again and much of the same happened with the crowd: lots of energy and love for both bands. Brian insisted he still didn’t know who’d fill the opening slot next week. Ray, Gerard, Pete, and Joe tried to get Brian to see reason while the others packed away their instruments. All but Mikey. He disappeared, as he’d had the tendency of doing around Frank. So they enlisted Jamia’s help on the cool spring evening.

“I hope My Chem gets the slot,” Jamia said, her voice strained as she helped Frank get an amp onto the back of the van.

“My Chem,” Frank said. He nodded at his roommate. Bob, hauling guitars, was not paying attention. “Sounds cool when someone other than Gerard says it.”

“Cool band,” Jamia said.

“You are the sweetest. You know, we don’t hang out nearly enough.”

Jamia started to agree, and Bob started to complain, when Frank noticed Mikey walking across the parking lot of the Dent. He was alone, head bowed and collar up, staying close to the building as he took his long strides. They hadn’t spoken since yelling at each other last week. Practice was increasingly awkward, Mikey was more stoic and reserved than usual, and Frank couldn’t stand not having his best friend anymore. So he politely blew Jamia and Bob off and jogged up to his friend.

“Mikey!” Frank called. He grabbed Mikey’s arm and Mikey shook it off, not breaking his stride for a moment. “Mikey, come on! When are you gonna start talking to me again?”

“Fuck off!” Mikey snapped as he turned to face Frank. “I’m not crazy! You called me crazy!”

Frank was taken aback. Is that what Mikey heard? Fuck, he’d screwed up. “That’s not what I—”

“This isn’t one of those things where I can ignore you for a while and come back like nothing happened.” Mikey took an angry few steps forward and Frank raised his hands defensively. “This hurt. Really hurt.”

Frank could see it in the way Mikey’s nose, eyes, and cheeks were red, face tight with contempt. Frank couldn’t stand that he’d caused that. He needed to make it better.

“I’m so sorry, Mikey, I—” he started, softly.

“I can make you hurt,” Mikey interrupted yet again, eyes wide. “Don’t make me make you hurt.”

“Go for it. I deserve it.”

“You’re not getting my friendship back that way.”

“Then how do I get it back?” Frank groaned, full of desperation. He needed Mikey. Eye for an eye, right? It was a great idea. “We can be even! I called out your insecurities, you have every right to call out mine.”

Mikey narrowed his eyes enough that it seemed he was thinking about it. He wasn’t making to move away so that was a good sign. Frank held his hands together pleadingly in front of him, even hunched a little for added effect. He wondered if he’d even be doing this if he weren’t a little drunk. When Mikey continued to stare, he sighed.

“Come on!” Frank demanded. “Hurt me.”

“Why do you cling?” Mikey mumbled.

Frank stared at Mikey in confusion. That’s what he was opening with? What did that even mean?

“Why do you cling to people?” Mikey continued. Monotone wouldn’t be right to describe his voice. There was no tone at all, it was like a few degrees below the darkness of your room the second after you turn the lights off. There was nothing, and it was a little scary to witness when Mikey had the dead expression to match, stood bolt straight. “You’ve been holding onto a fruitless crush on Ray,” he went on.

Mikey was going to do it after all. Frank took a deep breath and planned to mentally prepare himself for the onslaught. He needed to be reasonably defensive but not let anything Mikey said get to him. Mikey wasn’t a big words guy so when he did use them, they struck hard. “It wasn’t frui—” Frank said. Unsurprisingly, he was interrupted.

“You’re clinging to me,” Mikey said. Another step forward and Frank’s heel hit a wall when he stepped back. “Do you not have other friends?”

Frank chuckled humorlessly, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. Honesty’s a pretty safe route. “Not as close as—”

“Is that what your ex taught you?”

Frank visibly startled, elbow hitting the wall. For a second he felt anger then shock when he noted, again, the cold expression on Mikey’s face. Frank took another deep breath. This was just part of his karma.

“Excuse me?” Frank said softly.

“Did he scare you into needing him so bad that now you’re scared into needing every other relationship you have?” Mikey said. “Beat you into submission?”

Frank’s eyes welled with tears and his chest ached. This was not a road he wanted to go down. “Mikey, I… You know that I—”

“If I punched you in the face right now, would you kiss my feet? Suck me off? You need me that bad?”

Frank blinked away tears. He felt himself slipping into that scary place he always did when Ernest said these kinds of things to him, when Ernest grabbed him with one hand and raised the other in a fist. He didn’t want to go there ever again. He was done with this little experiment. They get it. Mikey was a depressed drug addict and Frank had a shitty, abusive ex. It was out there.

“Okay, Mikey,” Frank said. His hands were shaking. “You did it. You can stop now.”

“Does it ever stop for you?” Mikey said. He leaned forward, turning his head to the side in what Frank could only think of as an evil way. Frank’s back hit the wall and he stared at Mikey with wide eyes. “Do you still have nightmares about him? Do you justify what he did to you by calling it a kink? Your own brand of Stockholm.”

Frank covered his mouth, doubling over. He felt nauseous and dirty and he just wanted Mikey to stop. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t breathe, he forgot how to breathe.

“I love you,” Mikey said tenderly. And he got closer, within reach, and Frank tried to grab at him. His chest ached more when Mikey just turned away. “You hurt me.”

“I’m sorry,” Frank said, broken up. He wasn’t sure who he was talking to anymore. It couldn’t be Mikey; he could be cold but not this cold. Either way, he wanted to fix it. Wanted to make Mikey feel better, to make up for what he did. He felt so guilty he was dizzy with it.

“Show me,” said Mikey.

The words struck fear and relief in Frank. He could prove it, could prove how sorry he was and fix this. He didn’t mean to hurt Mikey, he loved Mikey, and he would make it better. But how? Ernest would want sex. Would Mikey want sex? He was so close now, just a few inches away and with his breath falling over Frank’s ear.

“I don’t—” Frank started to say. The established trend continued.

“Show me!” Mikey snapped, both his hands clenched into fists.

Frank’s head hurt. His world had narrowed down to just Mikey and he forgot everything as he reached, looking at Mikey desperately and grabbing his hips for purchase. “What do you want?” Frank asked weakly, praying for Mikey’s fists to relax. “Anything, just…”

Frank pulled Mikey close and Mikey started pulling away. It was scary and nerve-wrecking and everything inside him felt like it would collapse if Mikey didn’t come closer. Frank reached for his shirt but failed, watching it slip from his fingers.

“Does that hurt?” Mikey said, his voice back to normal. Frank looked up. His face was red and raw again and Frank could hear the hurt in his voice as tears trickled down his own cheeks. “I know you like it when it hurts.”

Frank’s mouth fell open as Mikey walked away. He struggled to a seat on the ground and gasped at his knees, his arms shaking as he held himself. He couldn’t even grasp what had just happened but it hurt him everywhere. It felt like something was squeezing his lungs and he couldn’t get any air in if he tried, which he did, while staring at the same white spot on the concrete as his heart shook with rage and pain.

“Frank!” called a familiar voice. Frank flinched. Joe. He hoped that maybe telepathically Joe would get to leave Frank alone as his heart gave out but the guy stepped right over. “So, we confronted Brian and apparently he’s been messing with us. He gets to book TWO bands on campus for the fest. You know what that means?”

“Don’t care,” Frank grumbled.

“We…we’re both playing the fest,” Joe said. His voice had softened. Maybe he understood now that he was close enough. “You guys are opening the second day, we’re doing the first.”

“I’m having…a panic attack.”

“Okay. Whoa. What do I do?”

Frank didn’t say anything. He couldn’t anymore. Joe knelt down a few feet away and Frank watched him fumble with his fingers. They both waited until Frank got himself to his feet. Joe didn’t ask questions. He bought him tea on the way back to the freshmen dorms and hugged him goodnight outside of L street.

***

It took a while to get from emotionally crippled down to sad but he got there. Not even depressed, just…down. Lonely and upset and heavy and lost. He’d asked Mikey to attack him, to enact some form of karma, but Mikey had taken it a step further and _actually_ attacked him. He said and acted like he did knowing well what it would do to Frank. And Frank was blubbering on the couch all night, as roommates came and went on their Friday night of debauchery. If they asked, he told them to leave him alone. If they persisted he cried more and they hugged him and went along their way.

It was disgusting and Frank fucking hated it.

The only person he spoke to was Ray. The second he walked through the door, Frank bounced to his feet and wrapped himself around him. Frank hoped to just melt into him or for parts of him to disappear as they kissed.

“I heard that you—” Ray tried, because of course his friends and suitemates were spouting their concern left and right, but neither of them got much out.

It went from backs against walls, to shirts on floors, to hands and nails and lips and teeth all over as they found purchase against doors, to finally lying and moving and shaking and moaning together. It went too quickly and in slow motion and Frank clung to Ray just like Mikey said he did, clung to his sweaty and warm body as they fucked or made love or whatever this was. When they were lying naked together, Frank didn’t really feel any better.

“I love you,” Frank said. Ray kissed his neck and sighed.

“Frankie—” said Ray, sounding like he was ready for a good reprimand.

“Shut up,” Frank said. He shoved Ray and held him close again. He kissed his shoulder and gasped as Ray squeezed him, held him close and tight. “Just let me say it, just let me say it…” Frank murmured desperately, over and over. When he said it again, Ray didn’t protest.

***

Sad to angry took a little longer. Frank slept with Ray every night, avoided talking to anyone but him, and barely ate or left Ray’s room except to drag himself to class. Everyone asked and he never said but he thought he heard murmurs about Mikey having something to do with it. It wasn’t until he had class with Pete Tuesday that he realized what an idiot he was being.

“Mikey’s really good at making people he loves miserable,” Pete grumbled, after Frank ignored his attempts at finding out what was wrong.

Was Frank really goddamn miserable because Mikey fucked with his head? Frank bought three veggie cheeseburgers after class and took them to his room. No way was he miserable because of Mikey. What a shitty thing, to fuck with your friend’s head knowing full well how to break them. It was Mikey’s fault.

Bob showed up when Frank was halfway through his last burger and an article for class. Frank smiled at his roommate, determined to fake his way out of his funk if not just fill the hole in his chest with meat substitute goodness. As he sat on his bed Bob frowned at Frank, looking skeptical. He opened his mouth to speak then shook his head, his brow furrowed. Frank widened his eyes and nodded, to which Bob sighed. The cool thing about an emotionally stunted roommate like Bob is that much can be divulged with significant glances and head movements. Bob had something he needed off his chest. Frank was all ears.

“Mikey broke up with me,” Bob said.

Frank tensed a little, a sharp anger in his chest and suddenly hot forehead. “How you holding up, man?” Frank asked as casually as he could. He took another bite of his burger.

“Fine.” Bob shrugged, lying down. Either he didn’t notice Frank’s reaction or chose to ignore it. “Mikey’s not the type to be tied down. Besides, he dated me for the chase you know? He wanted Pete to fight for him.”

“That’s cute. But no. This is Pete.”

Bob nodded, seeming resigned to the whole thing. He’d given Frank another reason to be mad at Mikey. Frank frowned at his burger, suddenly disgusted with himself for self-medicating with food. He pushed it away and crossed his arms. Angry to sad was remarkably easy and impossible to understand.

“Are you okay?” Bob asked, giving Frank that same look of concern he’d been getting from the rest of the world.

“No,” Frank admitted.

“Wanna smoke?”

Frank thought about it. Bob had no qualms about sharing his drugs in the case of an emergency but Frank didn’t want to be an emergency. “No,” Frank decided.

“Wanna fuck?” Bob suggested, getting a shocked laugh from Frank due to his apparent sincerity.

“No!”

“What do you want?”

Could you ask a more loaded question? Frank didn’t know where to start.

“I wanna smoke,” Frank said.

“Alright,” Bob said. He hopped off his bed and said one of the best five-word sentences existing in the English language. “Let’s go to the Trail.”

***

The 17th Annual Savage Arts Festival was a 3-day showcase of student art. Friday night kicked off with a concert on two stages on the great lawn. Most of Saturday was for art exhibits, installations, and the school’s classical musicians in the concert hall, ending with another night of concerts outside. Sunday ended the extravaganza with dance recitals and plays. Even as freshmen, the boys of suite L325 felt a certain camaraderie with their artistic peers. Everyone on campus understood the importance of appreciating the hard-working students in the conservatories. It was a reminder that this was an art school. Most supported their fellow students by buying tickets for and attending at least one of the events on campus because everyone knew someone in a conservatory. But what everyone really looked forward to was the concerts on the lawn.

The outdoor concert portion of the festival was the most prominent event in part because it was already paid for and because you didn’t have to be a conservatory snob to have your art celebrated. The special shows indoors were nice but the outdoor concerts, which cut off the Great Lawn with barricades on its perimeter, were grittier and generally more fun. That’s how Frank felt about it, anyway. The real reason it was a big deal was because there was always a special headliner. One time it was Green Day and Frank will forever be full of regret that he wasn’t of college age when that happened. This weekend it was some other Grammy Award-winning band, which was okay too.

Fall Out Boy rocked the side stage of the festival Friday night. They got an amazing reception; for their 30-minute set, they played some favorites from their Dent shows, a Descendants cover, and a new song that had everyone moving their feet. It was impressive and they sold a few CDs while another artist started their set some 300 meters away. Patrick did in fact get over his nerves enough to not pass out on stage and his live vocals were so impressive Frank swore there was something otherworldly about him.

The gang went to Gerard’s art show the next afternoon. But between the art show and My Chemical Romance’s opening 7PM slot, they had about 45 minutes to eat and do sound check. There was a lot of running involved, and eating while running, and lifting while sipping energy drinks then running, but soon enough, with their very legitimate laminated artist passes (Frank and Ray squealed about it for at least a minute), they got everything together and on stage. Fall Out Boy played roadies, just like My Chem had the night before for them, and were promptly kicked off stage right before the set started.

Though the school had less than four thousand matriculated students and was pretty much on lock down for the events of Savage Festival, each student was allowed plus threes. Not all of them used them all, of course, and not all of them even went to the festival. But My Chemical Romance had never performed for more than a few hundred people and there were definitely thousands standing in front of the stage. Frank had been one of them most of the night before but this was wholly different. He was jittery, full with nerves and excitement, looking around at the indifferent faces in the crowd.

It had just gotten dark out. Behind Frank were the prissy houses of Connecticut; to his left the freshmen halls; his right, junior village. He stared at the crowd in wonder, looking at his watch every few seconds. 3 minutes and 40 seconds. That dude’s cap is weird. 3 minutes and 34 seconds.

“You’re gonna just completely lose it,” Gerard said, bumping shoulders with him.

“I’m so excited,” Frank said. “Aren’t you excited? Fuck, I’m nervous.”

“Can we huddle before we start?” Gerard called behind him.

Bob, Ray, Gerard, Frank, and Mikey got into a circle in the center of the stage, arms around each other. Gerard looked suspiciously at his bandmates. Practice the last couple weeks had been tense, due to the fact that Mikey didn’t seem to be talking with half the band. The reason was more obvious with Bob than Frank; nosy bodies were still trying to figure out what exactly had ruined their friendship. But they were civil enough through practice and would work well on stage. They’d just be awkward and avoid each other. Frank wondered if this huddle thing had anything to do with that. Gerard had asked Frank if he’d figured out what was wrong with Mikey and all Frank could respond was that they weren’t friends anymore.

“Bury whatever shit you’re holding onto,” Gerard said. Of course. “This is the biggest show we’ve ever played. We’re gonna kill it and have fun, okay?” Gerard looked at everyone in turn for confirmation. They nodded. “Alright, are we fucking ready?”

They yelled their response and dispersed jumping in place. Mikey and Ray did a few jumping jacks together. Gerard pretended to punch Frank a few times and Frank dodged, making a face that made him laugh. Bob didn’t so much as blink as he stared out at the crowd. It was disturbing how nervous they all were, acting weird until the stage manager said they were good to go. Shit. Gerard introduced them to the crowd as Ray started the song, which got a cheer, and the rest of them soon kicked in.

“Well if you wanted honesty that’s all you had to say!” Gerard shouted at the crowd, bopping awkwardly and letting his feminine side loose with the movement of his hips and the shakes of his shoulders. It was entertaining to say the least.

Some people in the crowd, especially near the front, sang along, and Frank thought he might explode from happiness. They knew the words. They liked the songs. He screamed along through the chorus, staring right at Mikey as he yelled, “I’M NOT OKAY!” at the top of his lungs. Mikey’s stare never left his bass.

At the end of every song, there was uproar from the crowd. It was exhilarating. Whatever nerves Frank felt disappeared entirely. He stopped shooting Mikey cryptic glares. He felt every song in his veins, moved this way and that. He was careless and carefree and it was the most fun he’d had in too long.

After the show, they sold a few demos at their own impromptu merch table. They were technically not allowed to sell things but the supervisor didn’t seem to give a shit. As the other band started and the crowd shifted to the other stage, Bob and Frank manned the van selling CDs and flirting ruthlessly with everyone that came up to them. They were an actual band that got cool gigs. And they were going to be cocky about it.

“Just find me and give me the keys when you’re done,” Gerard said as Ray dragged him away to enjoy the festivities. Frank waved them off with a fanned out stack of singles. Mikey had disappeared already.

“That was such a great show,” Bob said. Frank nodded his agreement. “I thought I was just gonna die but I didn’t.”

“So booze and shit after, right?” Frank said.

“Hell yeah.”

***

Frank and Bob manned the back of the van selling CDs to shy high schoolers whose older siblings watched in amusement, drunken college students that forgot to collect their change, and administrators that liked that weird punk thing they had going on. Then they left the van in one of the freshmen parking lots to enjoy the rest of their nights. Savage Festival was first and foremost a party and the roommates had their own ways of partying. Frank scoured the campus for drugs and booze, came out with some shitty beer, and went to the stages to become one with the crowd. It wasn’t until all the festivities were over (two in the morning was the mandated time for all school-sponsored events to be over on weekends) that Frank checked his phone for messages. Right.

“I’m a little drunk,” Frank said. “I’m in the parking lot.”

“Which one?” Gerard asked.

“The one with all the…” Frank snorted trying to hold a laugh. “Cars.”

There were some annoyed murmurs and shuffling on the other line. Frank sat on the ground next to the van and fiddled with Gerard’s car keys. He really wasn’t that gone, he was just happy. It had been a good night. He wanted to see Gerard and Ray.

“I speak drunk-Frank,” said Ray on the other line. Frank wondered where they were. “What buildings can you see?”

“It’s S-2, God,” Frank said. “Come and get me, baby. Come and get all you want.”

It took Gerard and Ray about five minutes (Frank counted the seconds) to find Frank lying next to the van. So they were at the dorm, then. Probably getting nasty. Frank frowned at them for getting nasty without him but begrudgingly handed Gerard his keys. Ray offered to help him up but Frank told him to be patient and got to his feet all on his own. Ray laughed when Frank bowed. He walked around the car as Gerard entered the driver’s seat and Frank hopped into the backseat. Gerard heaved a sigh.

“Someone offered me acid,” Frank said.

“Is that what you’re on?” Gerard asked, starting the car.

“I’ve had a few beers, I swear tha’s’all.”

Ray turned around in his seat to beam at Frank. “Did you have a good time because I have not seen you since our set ended,” Ray said. See, this guy Frank liked.

They shared their stories of parties hopped and bands checked out. Frank swore to every God that he wasn’t really that drunk, that he was playing it up to feel good and forget about some bad things, and Gerard narrowed his eyes at Frank in the mirror for that one. Ray let it slide. Gerard was just bitter because he was the closest to sober, coming in with a whopping one beer, and he snailed down the road to avoid drunken partiers. The Junior Village parking lots were the hardest to get to from the S-2 freshmen parking lot, especially with a dozen other vehicles trying to get places, so it took quite the while to get to Gerard’s place. It was enough time for Frank to start thinking, especially after Ray lost interest in him and curled his fingers around Gerard’s thigh.

“You’re gonna fuck after you drop off our equipment,” Frank said. He chuckled softly to himself and rotated his hips on the seat. “Put away some equipment, take some other equipment out.”

Gerard and Ray didn’t answer. They probably thought Frank was being a drunk idiot. Still, Ray dropped his hand from Gerard’s thigh so Frank considered that a win. Gerard parked the van as close to his apartment as possible and they started hauling shit. The walking back and forth in the cool night breeze and lugging heavy things, especially after sweating in mosh pits for hours, definitely sobered Frank up plenty, wearing off whatever mix of adrenaline and booze had been keeping his spirits up. He noticed Gerard and Ray knocking into each other and flirting and kissing on their walks back, though, and Frank felt unequivocally like the third wheel.

“Ray, did Gerard tell you about how we made out a couple weeks ago?” Frank asked, as casually as he could fathom. Ray stopped short in his tracks. He furrowed his brow at Gerard, who continued on walking. They were making their last trip to the car for their jackets and to lock it up. Frank skipped ahead of Ray and followed Gerard, staring him down. “Because he was supposed to tell you. That was part of the agreement, right?”

Gerard locked the van’s doors in turn, without looking up at either Frank or Ray. Frank realized it was low to recall something meaningless that Ray didn’t need to know about but it was hypocritical to have kept it from him. Frank could tell Gerard hadn’t told him. They were way too happy together and Gerard was content in avoiding Frank. Something was up. Frank thought he knew what.

Gerard glared at Frank as he leaned against his van. As Ray approached, he folded his arms. He stared at his boyfriend with narrowed eyes. Frank approached the happy couple and stood between them. If Ray was really angry, he wouldn’t be this close to Gerard so there was hope. Ray opened his mouth to speak but Frank got there first.

“Well, I have an idea,” Frank said. “You both want me. I want you both. What can we do about that?”

Gerard turned so red he could have easily been mistaken for an apple. It probably would have happened if Frank had bought that acid. Ray, on the other hand, let his arms drop and opened his mouth in an exaggerated expression of shock. He almost looked amused. Yeah, he was on board.

“How many threesomes have you had?” Ray asked.

“Two that I know of,” Frank said. This time, Ray just laughed at Gerard who scoffed but looked more nervous. “Come on, don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it!”

Ray smiled amusedly at Gerard and raised a brow. Gerard laughed with an awkward sort of embarrassment about him, covering his mouth and looking away. Frank jumped in place. It was getting late and he would get tired soon, this needed to be decided ASAP. It’s seamless in porn, why is Gerard being so shy? Ray cleared his throat and Gerard stared at the sky for a moment, mumbling to himself.

“I don’t know, sure,” he said.

“I know you wanna fuck me,” Frank said. Gerard covered his face. Frank rubbed his shoulder and got in his personal space. “Stop being so shy! You’re not this shy on stage.”

“What’s the capital of Columbia?” Ray asked.

Frank looked at him with confusion. It was probably a means of making sure Frank was sober enough for this. In retrospect, Frank implying that he may have had threesomes he couldn’t recall was a glaring red flag. But Frank fucking knew this. He did a group project on Columbia, he knows all there is to know about the country in order to be an informative brochure.

“Fucking Bogo _tá_ , can we do this?” Frank said urgently, exaggerating his accent to make it clear that he was good for this. Ray nodded, licking his lips. Dear God. Gerard was still beet red and it was the cutest, most terrible thing in the world. “Do you wanna do this?”

“My roommates are crashing with other people tonight so we’ll have the apartment to ourselves,” Gerard said, locking eyes with Ray. Frank cupped Gerard’s chin, turned him to face Frank, and kissed him softly.

“That’s the spirit,” he said.

***

So maybe Frank hadn’t thought the logistics through. All he knew was that two plus him equaled lots of sex and he really wanted that. Like, really. There was horny and then there was Frank. It wasn’t even like he wanted to be sexy or sensual or intimate. It had been a while since anything more than handsies happened and even that was rare. Just the idea of being susceptible to whatever Ray and Gerard wanted to do with him was driving him crazy. It wasn’t a lie; he definitely wanted them both. But it wasn’t until that night that he realized how much, and that he could have them both. But, like, how exactly?

“We could take turns?” Ray suggested.

“I think Frank should dictate what happens, since it was his idea,” Gerard said.

“No, dude, I don’t want that power,” Frank said. “I elect Ray as the threesome…chair…man.”

The thing about Gerard’s bedroom was that it was small. God bless on-campus housing. The bed was small, anyway. Too small for the three of them to get up to much in it. So while “taking turns” was obviously the only way to go, Frank still wasn’t sure which way to go with it. He was getting hard just thinking about it. He fiddled with his fingers, looking between the other two guys and vibrating his leg impatiently. They were standing as far apart as they could, because they were weird and lame. Ray pushed the condoms on Gerard’s desk around with a bottle of lube and grinned. He pulled out the desk chair and sat right down.

“Fine,” he said. “I wanna see you two.”

“See us what?” Gerard asked immediately.

Frank rolled his eyes so hard his head rolled along with them. Ray laughed. Frank brought his hands to Gerard’s hips and held him close, got up on his toes to kiss him. Gerard kissed back feebly and Frank squeezed his hips hard, hoping to get some bruises in. The startled sound Gerard made was wonderful. He curled his hands in Frank’s hair and pushed forward slightly, kissing him so hard it made him stumble backward.

“So if this night goes well, I’m scratching ‘have a threesome’ right off my bucket list,” Ray mumbled.

Frank wrapped his arms around Gerard’s torso as Gerard pulled away from the kiss. It was a little disorienting and he kissed down Gerard’s neck to make up for the sudden loss. “I thought you’d be mad,” Gerard said, out of breath, and Ray chuckled.

“I’ve kinda been working up the courage to ask for this,” Ray said. Frank moaned and bit down on Gerard’s clavicle, making him inhale sharply. The breath came out shakily and Gerard pulled Frank back by his hair. “I’ve been talking to Gabe a lot.”

“God bless Gabe Saporta,” Frank said, grinning, eyes still closed. Gerard mumbled something and kissed Frank again, all lust and no thought, exactly like Frank wanted.

Frank grabbed at Gerard’s back as Gerard stepped backward. Gerard’s own hands slipped out of Frank’s hair and down to his neck, pulling and pressing. The pressure was unexpected but pleasant and their lips only parted again when Gerard’s legs hit his bed.

“I like that your bed is low,” Ray said. Frank and Gerard turned to him. “I don’t have to, like, climb a mountain to get on it.”

“Do you have something to say to me?” Frank asked. He took his mild, playful frustration out on Gerard, pushing him at his bed. Frank expected Gerard to catch himself, or at least to fall pliantly onto his ass, but Gerard flailed his arms and hit his head against the wall with a loud _thunk_. Frank gasped loudly and covered his mouth with both hands.

“Great start,” Ray said.

“I’m so sorry,” Frank said, chuckling through his hands. “Oh god, Gerard…”

“You know, if you were a little more active, Ray, maybe less people would come out of this injured,” Gerard said. He rubbed his head, rolling his eyes at Frank’s reaches.

“Just, like, let me…” Frank murmured.

He chuckled as Gerard sat up, still rubbing his head. He didn’t notice Ray standing so he gasped when his arms encircled him. Ray kissed his neck as his hands travelled to Frank’s hips then down. Frank’s mouth fell open and he leaned forward. Gerard smirked and lied down on his bed. He licked his lips as Ray rubbed Frank through his jeans, making him squirm. Ray’s mouth moved to Frank’s ear and he mouthed at his ear lobe.

“Don’t break my boyfriend, please,” Ray said.

Frank nodded slowly, mouth still open. He sighed when Ray moved his hands; one to his chest and the other to his own hand. Ray guided Frank’s hand toward Gerard, who took it and tugged. Frank sunk down onto the bed, Ray’s hands slipping from his body. He settled comfortably on Gerard and stared at his pretty face with wonder.

“Did that look as sexy as it felt?” Frank asked.

“No,” Gerard said, smile wide.

They fell into kissing again. Frank was electric with the ghost of Ray’s touch, ecstatic with Gerard’s hands exploring him. It was just sloppy, senseless, slightly inebriated kissing, but soon Frank’s shirt was off and so was Gerard’s. They moved awkwardly against each other; Gerard got noticeably more aggressive as they got more naked and more at peace with the idea that Ray was watching, scratching Frank’s back and tugging his hair and biting his lip. Frank held back moans, grinning. Gerard’s hands were cold and his torso was smooth and pale. Frank kissed along Gerard’s chest as he struggled with pulling down his jeans, laughing as Gerard’s hands joined his at Frank’s thighs.

Frank heard Ray’s steps over Gerard’s breaths and soon felt Ray’s hand on his lower back. Gerard moved up a little on his bed, undoing his jeans, as Frank kicked his own off as he got to all fours between Gerard’s legs. The jeans fell to the floor and Frank immediately reached a hand to Gerard’s crotch, rubbing him through a layer of cotton. Gerard looked up at Ray, blushing, twitching up into Frank’s hand. Frank wondered how he looked, mouth open and on his knees next to these two guys. He smiled as Ray’s hands moved up his spine then down, his lips briefly touching Frank’s side, then his fingers curling into his boxer briefs and tugging them down. Frank hung his head, suddenly embarrassed.

“Come on, I’ve seen this before, Frank,” said Ray. Gerard laughed as he slipped out of his own jeans.

“Gerard hasn’t,” Frank said.

“Look who’s nervous now,” Gerard said, carelessly throwing his jeans to the ground and his underwear with them. Confident, suddenly. Frank didn’t want to think it, because it was cliché as hell, but Gerard was not a small man. Maybe that was why he was confident?

“You are very pale,” Frank said, eye flickering between Gerard’s milky thighs and his dick.

Frank rested his head on Gerard’s hip, arms around his thighs. He moved his legs so Ray could get his underwear off then spread them pliantly. Gerard made a sound of appreciation. It occurred to Frank that Ray was fully clothed. Before he could protest, he heard the sound of a cap opening. Frank tensed and licked his lips, then moved them onto Gerard’s dick. He was half-hard at best and likely not expecting it so his intake of air was amusing; but Frank wasn’t planning on doing much, especially not as Ray eased a finger into him. He moaned softly, leisurely sucking Gerard down and just tasting and teasing him, like a popsicle on a fucking hot day, as Ray opened him up. Ray’s other hand was on Frank’s lower back and Gerard moved one of his to the back of Frank’s neck.

Frank felt surrounded in an oddly comforting way; warm and sexy and taken care of with both Gerard and Ray’s hands tender on him. He wanted both of them to be closer but he didn’t know how to make it happen. Ray added another finger, then a third, and Frank stopped teasing Gerard long enough to stare at him desperately. Gerard angled downward, held Frank’s head in both hands, and kissed him as if he knew what was happening in Frank’s head. Frank sighed against his lips, pushing back on Ray’s hands and squeezing, almost shaking.

“Okay, that’s enough,” Ray said, moving his fingers out of Frank and making him whine.

“Please, come on,” Frank said, already stupidly needy as he squeezed Gerard’s thighs. Gerard kissed him again then moved, angled with part of his back against the wall and pillows beneath him. Ray handed him the lube and a condom. Frank could only wonder how they were going to do this for a second before he felt Ray’s large hand, fingertips callused, gently hold his throat. Frank gasped and let himself be guided; he leaned back, turned his head to the guidance of Ray’s fingers, and kissed Ray greedily. Gerard moved and Frank tugged at Ray’s shirt. Ray obliged, taking off his shirt and letting Frank just touch him before looking down, seeing Gerard slip the condom on.

Ray kissed Frank’s shoulder. Frank turned and kissed his mouth, then his neck, then sucked on his nipple as he tugged at Ray’s waistband. Ray moaned when Frank got his hand inside and felt him, squeezed and stroked him, getting him breathless, and Ray’s hand reached around and stroked his cock. They moved like this, heads close but lips not really doing anything, pawing at each other, until Gerard clear his throat. Frank looked down, seeing Gerard was ready. Ray was the one to move away, taking off his jeans before climbing onto the bed.

Frank crawled over, straddled Gerard’s hips, rubbed Gerard’s nipples with his palms before settling his hands on his shoulders. Gerard guided himself into him and Frank let out a harsh breath as he sunk down; two pairs of hands were suddenly at his hips, getting him moving, and he groaned loudly.

“You’re right, he is noisy,” Gerard said. He was smirking and, behind Frank, Ray laughed quietly.

“Fuck you,” Frank said then, realizing the irony, he smacked Gerard’s shoulder. Gerard’s response was to roll his hips up and Frank hissed sharply, throwing his head back.

Ray kissed Frank from the top of his spine down, a tender trail that made him shiver; so contrasting what Gerard was doing, fucking up into him with no rhythm. Frank squeezed Gerard’s shoulders and grinded down; Gerard reacted by scratching his hips, down his thighs, mouth falling open and just letting Frank take control as he moved his hips leisurely. Frank continued like this, riding his cock, suspecting Gerard didn’t do this often. Frank reached a hand back as he moved faster, his breaths coming up short as he moved with Gerard. Ray stopped kissing him when Frank smacked his shoulder and Frank angled his back, moaning and squeezing and going down hard. He stilled for a moment, moving his other hand down Gerard’s red and sweaty chest as he reached down Ray’s arm.

“What is it, baby?” Ray said. He moved up, kissed Frank’s ear. He reminded Frank to move, lifting him slightly with the hands still on his hips, up and down on Gerard’s dick and the other two moaned. Ray just laughed. “God, you guys…”

Frank took Ray’s wrist and squeezed. Ray moved his hand around Frank, fingers moving across his skin as Frank moved on top of Gerard again. He watched Gerard, forgetting; just watched his eyes stare from under his lids, his mouth open, moved his own knees further apart as Gerard squeezed bruises into his legs. Ray moved his hand around Frank’s dick and Frank moaned as he stroked up, breathing across his neck and kissing. Slowly, over and over, and Frank just shook his head; pulled Ray’s hand away and up to where it had been a little while before: around his throat. And Frank sighed as if relieved.

“Three taps,” he said with his hand over Ray’s, like he always said, because Ray always made sure they knew what they were in for.

Gerard furrowed his brow. He moved his hands back up to Frank’s hips and Ray held his throat, loosely. Gerard took charge again; poor guy was at such an awkward angle for someone who didn’t usually do the fucking but he was getting the hang of it, moving his legs in some way that gave him leverage so that he fucked into Frank at a steady rhythm. Frank moaned softly with each movement that made him bounce and he pressed Ray’s hand down tight, holding, until Ray got the hint. He gripped Frank’s throat then moved swiftly; the energy between the three of them was getting to be much as Gerard moved him, moved inside him, and Ray got up on his knees, pressing his hard-on against Frank. Ray hissed, pulled Frank back sharply; the movement threw Frank’s head back and ached in his throat, his neck. Frank’s arms shook; he reached out his other arm until Gerard grabbed his hand and held it against his hip; and he managed to even shriek through the chokehold.

“Damn,” Gerard said in an exhale. He didn’t sound surprised but intrigued and Frank suspected this was another thing Ray had told him about Frank. He didn’t care enough at the moment to ponder on it.

Gerard moved quickly, wildly, but still keeping a rhythm; Frank moaned a little louder every time he went in deep, just glad to be getting fucked again and being breathless like this. He was dizzy and high and ecstatic, a rush of adrenaline and endorphins spreading warm against his chest and pleasure seeping through his spine. Ray swore against Frank’s neck as Frank rubbed against him. He moved his hand for just a moment – Frank gasped for air and sputtered – then quickly pinched his nose, pressing down on his mouth. He leaned forward, holding Frank close. The rhythm was interrupted for a moment as Frank frantically reached for Ray’s hand and wrist, shaking as he faltered. Then Gerard had his hands on Frank’s waist and they were almost gone.

Frank He moaned and groaned, all of him tight with tension. Ray egged him on, softly encouraging, licking his ear as he moved his other hand from his hip to his cock. He stroked him until he was full; Gerard’s breathing was labored and his moans were soft as if they were escaping by accident. Frank squeezed his eyes shut and squeezed around Gerard, earning a swear and a deliberate, sharp thrust up; Ray loosened, but didn’t remove, his hand. Frank felt a rush like the biggest high he ever had as the bit of oxygen went through him and he came, twisting away from Ray but throwing his head back. He tugged on Ray’s arm and Ray just held his chest as he trembled, babbling softly and incoherently as his come covered Gerard’s stomach.

It was too much, then, everything; the air, Ray, Gerard. But not enough at the same time. He was covered in sweat and he wanted to be covered in Ray. He moved to kiss Ray but started falling forward. Ray held him back as Gerard finished; shamelessly, finally, groaning. Frank smiled, imaging that O-face he still had not seen, but continuing to stare at Ray. Gerard swore with finality and Frank was slowly moved. Forward, then onto his side, and the wall was deliciously cold on his back. There were voices and movement. Frank swung an arm over Gerard, as they both gasped for breaths. He didn’t really understand what was happening. The delicious cold was, damn, way too much, and he shivered, rubbing his cheek against Gerard. So warm. Too warm.

Gerard, breathless: “Fucking wow.”

“Yeah.” Ray, almost admiring.

“He’s so intense.”

And Ray again? “Hey, babe, it’s okay.” Frank suspected this was addressed toward him. It was Ray, anyway, sounding Concerned, so it must have been. “Look at me.” Frank opened his eyes. Ray had somehow found a space to kneel between Frank and Gerard and he was staring at Frank. He moved his fingers through Frank’s hair and Frank hummed. “You’re okay?” Ray asked…said? What a lovely voice. “I’m right here.”

“Jus’ dizzy,” Frank said, laughed.

“Gerard, can you go get Frank a glass of water?”

“I just came.”

“I’m not wobbling to the kitchen with a hard-on.” Frank looked. Whoa, that was there. He laughed again, just as he reached desperately for Ray’s arm. To take him down and bring him close and make him _stay_. “Besides,” said Ray, “if I leave he’ll freak out.”

There was some silence in which Frank suspected some looks were exchanged but his eyes were closed again so he could never know.

“Making me get up after I just came…” Gerard grumbled.

The bed moved. Gerard was gone and Ray took his place. Frank snuggled close to him. What Frank should have done was ask Ray how much of their sex lives he’d divulged to his boyfriend. But Frank was so concerned with the fact that Ray hadn’t come that, even as he was slowly coming back to himself, he could only think about just touching Ray and feeling Ray and making him come. Ray snaked an arm around Frank’s shoulders, held his head to his chest, massaged his scalp. Frank hummed happily, moved a hand down and rubbed him over the cotton. Ray gasped, so damn cute, and Frank moved half on top of him.

They kissed, Frank quickly getting Ray going. Ray rolled Frank onto his back and pulled away from the kiss, looking at him questioningly. Frank didn’t stop moving his hand; if Ray had any protest, it slipped to the back of his mind as he moaned softly.

“Is this how you want me?” Frank whispered. “On my back?”

Ray looked so confused. “No, Frankie, I wasn’t planning on—”

“Knees, then?” Frank held Ray’s neck and pulled him down for a kiss. “I know you like that, know you like the view.”

“Hello, there,” Gerard said.

Gerard approached with a glass of water and Ray leaned back on his knees. Frank tried to prop himself up on his elbows but found it too difficult and just leaned up against the wall. Gerard, clad in pajama pants now, sat on the bed. Frank felt suddenly over-exposed, the only naked one in the room.

Ray took the glass of water from Gerard’s hand. “Drink some water, baby,” he said. He held Frank’s chin and brought the water to his lips. Frank drank obligingly, eyes falling shut.

“You’re gonna fuck him?” Gerard asked, once Frank couldn’t speak up. Frank still nodded. Gerard’s eyebrows went up. “He practically passed out.”

“I think he wants me to,” said Ray. Frank gulped and coughed. Okay, it felt damn good to have a drink. “You want me to, Frankie?”

Frank smiled and slithered onto his back, stretching his arms back. “Whatever you want,” he said pliantly. Everything Ray wanted. Anything.

“Okay but no…asphyxiation this time.” Frank whined, curling his back. Gerard murmured something, another exclamation of shock and awe at Frank’s manner. “I honestly think you’re still loopy from prior oxygen deprivation…and you look damn fine on your back.”

Frank sighed, whispered, “Okay,” and moved the pillows that were below his head. They were damp, with Gerard’s sweat for sure. He would’ve gotten on his knees if Ray wanted but he was glad he didn’t have to; he wasn’t sure he’d have the energy to stay on his knees. With help from Gerard, Frank got the pillows under himself. He planted his feet on the bed and spread his legs, watching Ray take off his boxers. Whoa. Yeah.

Gerard had the lube this time, how helpful. Frank didn’t think he’d need it. Ray drifted over him and softly kissed down his neck, which felt bruised, ghosted kisses on his chest, teasing and grinning up at him. Frank reached for him, held his jaw and pulled him up, shivered as Ray’s hands went up his sides. They’d barely kissed when Frank felt Gerard’s fingers prodding at him and he moaned, spreading his legs wider. It was more teasing than anything; _he didn’t need it_. It felt damn good, though, and he moaned into Ray’s mouth as Gerard’s fingers curled inside him, fucking him shallowly.

“Hey, babe?” Ray called back. Frank kissed his face, his neck, breathing hard already.

Gerard made a condom appear (so helpful) and was suddenly lying on his side next to Frank. He was grinning like a maniac, confidence goddamn restored alright, after a good fuck. It was damn cute but uncalled for.

“You’re about to watch your boyfriend fuck me,” Frank protested.

“Well, he watched me do it first…” Gerard said. Good point. Though it didn’t really matter as Gerard leaned down to kiss Frank, his hand on Frank’s chest, just as Ray held up Frank’s leg.

Ray eased in slowly and Frank let out a strangled moaned against Gerard’s lips, holding his other leg to his chest. Gerard hooked his arm around the leg Ray held, leaving Ray to lean forward. Probably didn’t look as good as it felt but it felt damn good. His hands on Frank’s chest, Ray started pressing forward and down; Frank, already gasping, couldn’t take in the deep enough breaths he needed, his chest likely bruised by how hard Ray had held him back. It was making him dizzy in that wonderful way. He looked up at Ray’s eyes glazed over with lust, curled his free hand into Gerard’s hair as Gerard kept on kissing him.

But he only had eyes for Ray. His steady breathing, the way his mouth fell open, the increasing pace of his gentle and shallow fuck. Frank was already way too sensitive; he was tense, overwhelmed, and hungry for more of it. He could hardly breathe and he kissed Gerard. Too much not enough.

“Baby, come on,” Frank said. He raised his hips, his legs; squeezed Ray’s chest with his knees. “Harder, babe, please…”

His voice was soft, lost as he just felt, but Ray complied. That was when Frank felt all of him, deeper; he threw his head back, getting lifted slightly off the mattress. Ray moved his hands to hold Frank’s legs and Frank gulped in much needed air, the high making the low and needy sounds coming from his throat grow in volume. He hadn’t even realized he was moaning. He immediately moved his hands to clutch the sheets; eyes closed now, calves on Ray’s shoulders. Holding onto Frank’s thighs, Ray thrust forward and pulled Frank back; Frank grunted with each smack of his ass on Ray’s hips as he was swayed forward and back like a rag doll by Ray’s strong arms. Frank pleaded more and Ray fucked him deeper, harder, faster harder _harder_. Frank didn’t even think he could take this much. It was definitely a lot, after Gerard, but not too much; he shook his head back and forth, entirely forgetting to breathe and gasping loudly every few seconds.

Ray slowed, abruptly, to a stop, despite what felt like happy moans from Frank. He lowered Frank onto the mattress and leaned down, kissing him on the mouth but getting no response. “Frankie?” he said. “You okay?”

“Why’d you stop?” Frank said tiredly. He was just on this side of worn out and he really fucking liked it. He moved against Ray, getting a moan and a reciprocated movement of the hips. “Yes, yeah, come on.”

They couldn’t keep going but they couldn’t fucking stop. Frank felt like he’d lose it either way. So he moved and Ray moved and they picked up a pace again. Frank murmured words of encouragement and swears and pleas. He didn’t even know what anymore. Ray leaned forward, kissed him, gripped his throat softly as he held his leg and shoved forward; Frank whimpered, grabbing onto Ray’s neck and back for purchase. Ray snapped his hips hard and squeezed Frank’s throat, breathed hard against his cheek. He murmured how good Frank felt, how good he looked; Frank moaned, almost proud except that he was too far gone. Ray said he was incredible for taking so much, said something about loving him, and Gerard stroked Frank’s cock, making him shout before he really knew what was happening. Ray swore and grunted and stilled, deep inside Frank, moaning against his ear.

Frank blinked his eyes open and stared at the ceiling passed Ray’s hair. He could see Gerard in his peripheral; staring at Ray, stroking Frank’s belly, kissing Frank’s shoulder and waiting. Ray pulled out slowly, taking a few breaths before climbing off the bed. He laughed softly and lifted his shaking hands to his hair, running his fingers through them. He couldn’t quite stop shaking, too much going on in him. He moved his legs experimentally, moaning at the aching everywhere that he knew would be sore tomorrow. He was positively fucked out and it made him dizzily happy. He felt like he was floating and sinking all at once. He wouldn’t need anything, ever, just to rest and wallow in the amazing hollow happy feeling he seemed to be enveloped in.

“He’s hard again,” Ray said, coming back with his underwear on. He climbed onto the bed and squeezed into the other side of Frank, against the wall. He wrapped an arm around him, enveloping Frank in a Rayrard ( _Gray_?) sandwich. Frank chuckled softly then focused on Ray’s still quickened breaths, looked down and admired the sheen of sweat and redness on his chest.

“Frank, you want one of us to blow you?” Gerard said huskily, obnoxious with how sexy he knew he was.

Frank hadn’t even thought about it but he was hard again. He brought a shaky hand down to his dick and stroked up, once; his legs practically twitched, he was so high strung. That was different. A blow job right then would be amazing and he didn’t even remember the last time he got one. But Ray and Gerard were tired. They probably just wanted to sleep now.

“You don’t have to,” Frank said timidly, moving his hand away from his cock in the hopes that it would bring the attention away as well.

“You just got fucked a second time, you deserve a blow job,” Gerard said, only almost joking.

Frank looked at Gerard, saw that he was being sincere, but still couldn’t bring himself to ask for it. The aching in his neck made him think of Ernest, who made it a habit to never get Frank off and even shamed him for wanting to. “You don’t…have to,” Frank repeated.

“But do you want to?” Ray asked. Frank turned slowly to Ray. “You kept asking me what I wanted. What do you want?”

There was that question again. What an odd question. No one needed to give him a blow job; they didn’t need to feel obligated. But maybe if they wanted to, it was okay for Frank to want it. He let out a shocked breath at touching himself then held the base of his cock, thinking not much would make him come. He was so far gone.

“I’d…be fond of a blow job,” Frank said. He smiled a little as Ray kissed his shoulder. “I mean, fuck yeah. Someone give me a blowjob.”

“That settles it,” said Gerard. “I’m sucking you off. I owe you one anyway.”

Frank grinned as Gerard moved to the foot of the bed, lied down, kissed his fucked up thighs. Frank couldn’t wait to see all the marks in the morning. He gazed at Ray, who was watching Gerard with half-lidded eyes. For a second, he thought about what Ray had breathed into his ear and whether it meant anything. Then it was all Gerard’s mouth and he literally couldn’t think.

Needless to say, it didn’t last long. Frank held the base of his cock, hoping he would hold off the orgasm and enjoy the blowjob longer, but looking at Gerard from this angle was just obscene and he still felt strung out from everything else they’d done. Gerard wasn’t holding back, either; sucked him right down, swallowed around him, moaned and twisted his tongue. He had Frank swearing and sweating in seconds. Frank stroked up a few times, meeting Gerard’s lips, and he was gone; threw his head back, held Gerard’s head close as if it was the only thing keeping him to this Earth, leaning forward so quickly he heard something pop in his back. He fell onto the mattress again breathing hard, eyes closed. Sleepy, worn out, too much definitely the reigning king of everything his body had gone through. But so damn content.

“Well, fuck this. I’m hard again.”

Ray laughed. “Can you ever get through giving a blowjob without getting hard?”

“Have you met me? I am a certified cockslut.”

There was whispering that Frank couldn’t quite catch because he swore he wasn’t part of his body anymore. Hands were on him, reassuring and moving him, and before he knew it he was under a comforter and with a familiar body lying next to him. Frank hummed happily as Ray kissed the back of his neck and rubbed his arm from above the comforter.

“Okay but when he falls asleep can you take care of this?” Gerard said from…somewhere. Ray chuckled and Frank was soon asleep.

***

Frank wasn’t sure whether the smell or the sun woke him but it was something warm and pleasant and he was smiling as he blinked his eyes at the wall. He was enveloped in blankets, naked and sweaty. Wait – no, he had his underwear on. Someone put his underwear on him? He stretched out of the blanket and immediately realized he was in too much pain to stretch. He moaned softly, snuggled into the blankets for a moment. The smell beckoned him again, though, so he shimmied (not stretched) out of the blankets. His clothes were on Gerard’s desk chair, folded neatly, and a glass of water on the desk had a note next to it that read: “Morning, love.” It was in Ray’s handwriting.

Remembering last night, Frank smiled. Parched, he picked up the glass. He looked down at himself; the bruises, the scratches, the marks. His neck hurt, his legs, his thighs, his ass. Every good kind of hurt, though. He stared at the “love” in the note, wondered for more than he should have about the _I love you_ that escaped Ray’s throat when they were coital, and finished the glass of water with his brow furrowed. He put on his clothes and stumbled out into the hall, down the stairs.

“Look who’s awake!” Gerard called.

Frank startled, turning to the kitchen with wide eyes. That’s where the smell was coming from, wow. Gerard waved a spatula at him. Frank smiled and waved timidly back. His niceness was getting unnerving; where was the Gerard that tried to punch him out this time last semester? Frank stepped into the living room, where Ray was sitting on the couch tapping away at his phone. Ray looked away from the screen to smile beautifully at Frank and that was when Frank realized that he was nervous.

“How’d you sleep?” Ray asked.

Frank sat close enough to Ray that he could technically say he sat next to him but far enough that there would be no need for touching. Why was Frank nervous? Maybe he was still too high strung from last night; he was exhausted, so used up, everything just feeling stringy or like jelly.

“I don’t know,” Frank said. He laughed as he rubbed his eyes. “I mean, I’m not super tired but…I hurt fucking everywhere, dude.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” Frank nodded, smiling at Ray. “I’m great.”

He was. He felt good. Last night was amazing. He replayed some of it in his head and felt himself grinning moronically; from the show to the parties to the fucks, it was an exceptional evening. Ray laughed, probably because Frank looked goofy staring off thoughtfully. There was something nagging at Frank, though, and it was stuck in his chest like he was about to give a speech in front of ten thousand people. He crossed his legs and turned to Ray.

“Glad to hear that,” Ray said. He reached over and played with Frank’s hair. Frank closed his eyes. Ray sounded Concerned, and his sigh indicated that he was, so Frank shimmied closer to let Ray know that there was nothing wrong. That he was exhausted and it was probably his everlasting anxiety that was making him a little off. Could you indicate that much from a shimmy? Obviously not, because everything Ray said next came quickly and anxiously. “We need to have an awkward conversation right now because I care about you and Gabe is on this sexual revolution with the Complexuality Club that is adamant about ‘constant and thorough communications with your sexual and/or romantic partners.’”

Frank laughed. “He gave me a flier,” he said.

“Why didn’t you want to get off?” So no beating around the bush, then. “Last night. You didn’t want to get off and you were shaking your head when we were fucking and you didn’t kiss me back that one time… We were all a little drunk and I just want to be sure that it was all good for you.”

Frank sighed and faced Ray, his head rested against the wall. “It was a lot,” Frank said. “I was in a different place. I can’t explain it. I was overwhelmed.”

“Are you okay?”

There it was again. Was Frank okay? How did Frank feel? What did he want? It shocked Frank every time one of those questions came up and he couldn’t figure out why. And he thought maybe that was what bubbled in his chest. Maybe that was the too much.

“I’m great,” Frank said. “It was great. I don’t know, I wish I could just have sex and it be simple. But I was exhausted…and I liked that.” Frank blushed. “And I guess I didn’t need to come twice.” He scratched his jaw, realizing that it was the truth. He would have been fine without coming again. “Remember when I told you it—” Frank mimed choking himself “—was mostly sexual?” Ray nodded, eyebrows furrowed as if he wasn’t following. But it was fine if he wasn’t. Frank was just realizing it himself as he spoke. “Well, it is,” he said. “And sometimes I just need the high and it does something amazing to me that I don’t know how to explain.” Ray still looked concerned so Frank groaned and, his voice so loud he heard a laugh from the kitchen, said, “I loved fucking you both and I liked the blow job! The many talents Gerard’s mouth possesses are mind-boggling. It just wasn’t necessary at the moment, though not unwanted either.”

There was a quiet stillness for a moment. Ray moved his hand to Frank’s thigh and Frank moved his hand to Ray’s. They held hands, something they had only done sober on other time: Friday the thirteenth, when Frank Screwed Up and told Ray he loved him. Frank worried his lip at the realization. _I love you. What do you want?_

“I wish we would’ve known all that beforehand, to not force you into an uncomfortable position,” Ray said. Frank bit his lip then started giggling. “You know what I mean!”

“It’s really fine,” Frank said, still laughing even as Ray squeezed his hand almost like a reprimand. “I really was content with doing whatever you two wanted. I’m just now figuring this stuff out myself. My sexuality was exploited and manipulated so I’m…never sure of…”

There it was. That goddamn grinding pressure in his chest. Like the days following Mikey’s verbal attack, or almost seeing Ernest at his house, or getting caught by him at the wedding. Ray had said he loved Frank, in the heat of the moment; asked him what he wanted, putting him first. He’d wanted last night to happen as if it would fix anything but all it did was confuse him more. What the hell _did_ he want? And was he going to get it feeling helpless and used?

“Anyway, we’ll talk more about it next time,” Ray said, slowly. Carefully. At any rate, Frank wasn’t really paying attention. “I didn’t know you expected me to fuck you and you looked too worn out for it. I think we were all a bit overwhelmed but we got off and liked it and that’s what matters.”

That was it. Frank felt used. But he wanted to. But he shouldn’t. Because Ray wasn’t at all like Ernest and Frank deserved better than Ernest, better than whatever the hell that was. He couldn’t be the same person he was then. Being loved shouldn’t feel like a punishment and it struck him that it did; that whether or not Ray meant it, it hurt to think that someone could love him.

“Oh I fucking loved it,” Frank said, staring at the opposite wall blankly. “But I don’t think there’s gonna be a next time. I don’t wanna be a part of this.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“Like, at all. I don’t want to do this anymore.”

Frank’s jacket was on the chair, his shoes by the door. He didn’t need socks. He couldn’t look at Ray. He got up, stumbled to the chair, put his jacket on, walked past Gerard on his way to the door.

“Veggie bacon and toast galore for my boys,” Gerard said, his voice falling as he watched Frank preparing to leave.

“Thanks but I’m gonna check out,” Frank said, still staring at the floor.

“Seriously? I stole Max’s tofu bacon for you!”

“I stole your boyfriend.”

Frank walked out the door without another word.

***

Ray didn’t return to the suite. Frank spent a lot of time in the library, anyway. Papers to write, tests to study for. He couldn’t think about the weekend without feeling guilty and annoyed and anxious so he put all his heart and soul into his studies. There was no avoiding drama, it seemed, with Frank’s big mouth and demons. But at least he had friends to talk to this time.

He found Patrick upstairs, sitting alone in the group study session between the geography aisles, and sat across from him. Patrick arched a brow but otherwise didn’t acknowledge the existence of another human being. Frank just stared at him until something happened and, surely enough:

“I mean, you can sit way over there and be a vague nuisance,” said Patrick, flipping a page, “or you can move your ass over here and actually distract me with something I hope is important.”

Frank moved his ass over there and actually distracted him with something he hoped was important.

“It sounds like you have stuff to think about,” Patrick said. Frank sighed deeply, nodding as he stretched his arms across the table; it was like he needed the validation from someone. “But you also shouldn’t cut them out like that. They’re your friends.”

“I don’t like it when people are angry with me,” Frank grumbled.

“Then don’t make them angry with you. Do you think they’d be angry if you had sat down and explained, calmly, that you needed some space, instead of running out abruptly and leaving them with something really cryptic and potentially harmful to their relationship?”

Frank narrowed his eyes. Patrick did not blink. Frank mumbled something that resembled, “Probably not,” and Patrick huffed with finality, turning back to his textbook. Frank went back to his own homework but it took all of two seconds before Patrick slammed his book shut, making Frank jump out of his socks.

“Is Pete okay?” Patrick asked.

“How would I know?” Frank asked.

“You live with him.”

“He seems fine. Well…we haven’t spoken much recently. You know, both of us having been emotionally traumatized by the same skinny, mean man.”

“Can you please check on him?”

It was Frank’s turn to slam his book shut. He heard a sharp “ _shhhh_ ” from the next aisle over and mimicked the sound, frowning at the books across from him.

“Why the fuck do people expect me to check up on depressed assholes?” Frank snapped.

“Because they’re depressed,” Patrick said plainly.

Frank frowned, looked away, looked back. “Pete’s depressed?”

“He’s a mess, Frank.”

“Well, I have my own shit.”

“Just drop by, okay? He’s hiding stuff from me. He doesn’t do that.”

Frank knew exactly how that felt. When Mikey was a mess, Frank was on the receiving end of verbal abuse and half-assed conversations; felt out of the loop and confused, stuck without knowledge of his best friend; had even potentially been lied to about the ending of Mikey’s relationship with Pete, which should have been a small detail but Frank couldn’t just ignore small details about Mikey. Because even if he was the biggest asshole Frank knew, he was Frank’s best friend. He had no doubt in the world Patrick was hurting watching Pete hurt. At the very least, it would be a distraction. Yeah, he could check up on Wentz.

“I’ll buy you pot,” Patrick said, exasperated.

“Well, now,” Frank said, “if I say I’ll do it, it’ll sound like I’m doing it for drugs.”

“I… _won’t_ buy you pot?”

Frank’s eyes widened. “Help a brother out, man.”

***

Frank managed to avoid Ray another day. He wasn’t sure whether Ray had been back to the suite at all but he didn’t feel like asking anybody. At any rate, everyone had their own stuff going on. He wondered if they noticed that Frank was barely holding it together.

Tuesday afternoon, Frank and Pete walked back to the suite together. Frank chewed on his lip and glanced at Pete, chewed on his lip and glanced at Pete, opened his mouth to speak before Pete glanced back, and finally just sighed, speaking the first words that came to his mouth. Like he usually did.

“Who broke up with who?” he asked, evidently not yet over that one.

“What?” Pete snapped.

“You or Mikey.”

“I broke up with him.”

That’s not what Mikey said, why would he lie? “Why?” Frank said, voice soft.

Pete locked his jaw, took a deep breath. “We kept hurting each other,” he said. “It was destructive.”

“How was it—”

“I don’t want to talk about it. It was shit. We were both shitty and I don’t want to talk about it.”

They walked in silence for a moment. Frank stared at his feet. He couldn’t stop thinking about Mikey. He hadn’t seen or heard from him since the Fest and hadn’t thought about him much except to feel like shit. He felt like a bad friend, being Patrick’s errand boy but not himself checking in on Mikey.

“He lied to me,” Frank finally said. “He doesn’t do that. He hurt me, deliberately. He doesn’t do that either.”

Pete took a long while to reply, not speaking a word until they were at the front door of their dorm. “He’s really depressed and sometimes he’s manic,” Pete said.

“I know but he’s medicated for it. I mean, that shit don’t always work but it seemed to work for Mikey last semester.” As they started up the stairs, Frank sighed and decided to just get to the point. “Anyway, Patrick wanted me to…” Frank looked back and saw that Pete was still firmly with two feet on the first floor, staring at the opposite wall. “What?”

“I don’t have health insurance,” Pete said slowly.

Frank didn’t understand what was going on but he suspected this was something he needed to be closer to Pete for. So he walked down the stairs, crossed his arms, and said as kindly as he could, “So?”

“I was diagnosed with the same disorder Mikey has,” Pete said, looking more and more mortified by the second. “But my dad got laid off and I stopped getting medicated. I came back this semester thinking I was gonna be miserable but Mikey shared. Every drug he had, he shared.”

Pete paled, looking at Frank guiltily. Frank narrowed his eyes, ready to be pissed off but not sure why. He backtracked through their conversation in his head and it took a few seconds for it to click.

“You were taking his pills,” Frank said, contained horror in his voice.

“Some,” Pete clarified shyly.

“You can’t do that!”

Frank punched the wall after shouting. He was shaking; angry at Pete for taking Mikey’s pills, angry at Mikey for offering them; and so worried of what this might have done to Mikey.

“He said the coke would make up for the rest,” Pete said. He looked ashamed and his eyes were red with tears. “I couldn’t do it anymore, I felt like I was going crazy.”

“Have you seen or heard from him recently?” Frank said, already skipping to picking up his phone to call Mikey. Pete stared at Frank helplessly. Mikey’s phone went straight to the voicemail. Frank groaned and snapped at Pete. “Well, have you?”

“No, I… Do you think he’s okay?”

***

They spent all night trying to figure out where Mikey was. They talked to all his friends, or at least all the ones they could track down, and when they had no information begged them to let either Frank or Pete know immediately if they heard from him and, for the love of God, to not alert Gerard. They’d deal with him when it was entirely necessary. It was past midnight when they were ready to call it quits but on the way back to L street they noticed Mikey’s roommate and chased him down.

“Have you seen Mikey?” Pete asked, grabbing Vic’s arm.

“I saw him in Junior Village,” Vic said, pointing in the direction of…not Junior Village. He was obviously on something and Pete and Frank shared a look.

“What was he doing there?” Frank asked.

“Well, his dealer lives there,” Vic said.

“Of course,” Pete muttered under his breath.

“Anyway, he was headed toward the Trail when I saw him,” Vic said as he walked away.

Of course on their way to the Trail, they got a phone call from Gerard.

“We’re gonna find him, don’t worry,” Frank said. He was running and couldn’t deal with trying to calm himself, Pete, _and_ Gerard down.

“Let me go with you, where are you guys?” Gerard shouted.

“We’ll bring him too you, okay? The second we find him, we’ll call you back.”

Frank hung up before Gerard could complain.

They slowed down as they entered the Trail, walking quickly and breathless. Frank glanced around; they passed the clearing with no sign of Mikey. They went deeper into the forest, until light from the streetlights no longer led the way. Pete held out his phone for light.

Frank sighed the biggest sigh of relief when Mikey appeared lying next to a bush, looking lazily up at them. Confused, pale except for around his nose where he was perpetually red, his eyes narrowed on Pete and his impromptu flashlight. For all the avoiding Frank had been doing, he never thought he’d be so happy to see Mikey. He was so ready to assume the worst.

“What is he doing here?” Mikey said, glancing at Frank then looking at Pete pleadingly.

Frank scoffed. He shook his head and he scoffed and he turned away, ready to relinquish all care to Pete, but Pete grabbed his wrist before he could move.

“Wait,” Pete said sternly. Frank locked his jaw. Pete backed away from Frank slowly and moved toward Mikey, crouching once he was close enough. “Mikey, everyone’s worried about you.”

“So?” Mikey said.

Again, not giving a shit about anyone. Like a fucking prick lying there looking like a victim of his own shitty decisions and not caring how it affected everyone else. “You know, you have nothing to be depressed about,” Frank shouted before he realized what he was doing.

“Don’t,” Pete said.

“My family’s been broken all my life,” Frank croaked out. Mikey’s eyebrows went up only slightly as he struggled to a seat. “My abusive ex-boyfriend is coming back to haunt me,” Frank continued, lowering his voice and stepping closer. Pete hung his head and Frank pointed at him. “Pete’s thinking about dropping out because he can’t pay tuition and his family needs him. You’ve—” Mikey fell back against the bush as Frank moved to point at him “—got your upper class parents giving you spending money enough to binge on coke and you have every friend you don’t deserve worried sick about you. What the fuck are you playing at?”

The stillness that followed was punctuated by the suddenly biting cold. Pete stared at the ground while Frank winded down, breathing heavily and waiting for the heat to leave his body. Mikey blinked rapidly and got up on his knees. He rubbed his wrists together and rocked forward slightly.

“I don’t know,” Mikey replied slowly as he stared at Pete, smiling. “You’re right. But it’s in my head. It’s always been in my head.” Mikey’s eyebrows furrowed and he looked back up at Frank. “You’re not my friend.”

Just like that, Mikey suddenly had the expression of the most miserable son of a bitch. He sunk lower into the ground, eyes welling with tears as he squinted at Frank. He gasped for breaths and as much as Frank tried to, he couldn’t stay cold. He felt his expression soften as he walked over to the other side of Mikey, saw the redness in his face up close like he might cry, and he couldn’t muster up any more emotions.

“You’re not my friend,” Mikey told Frank again. “I’m sorry.”

“Mikey…Gerard wants to talk to you,” Pete tried. Mikey’s eyes widened and he nodded profusely, reaching. Pete helped him to stand; Frank stood near, waiting to see if he was needed.

Mikey turned to Pete as the three of them stumbled back to the Trail. “I love you,” Mikey said.

“I love you back,” Pete said softly.

“It’s in my head.”

“I know, baby.”

Frank was so tired.

***

The next few days went by pretty quickly. With Mikey under everyone’s collective watch, Frank could avoid the situation altogether. He did schoolwork. He played his guitar. Everyone pretty much slotted him under the “acting weird” category and put all their worries on Mikey, so he was generally left alone. It was a nice, quiet time. Frank worried himself with essays and gossip from back home. Ray still hadn’t spoken to him, though they’d very pointedly avoided each other in the suite. It was a little crazy. But he was too worn out to really care.

“Intruder alert!” someone shouted from the common area one afternoon while Frank flipped through flashcards.

Steps moved in the hallway and someone stood at the threshold of Frank’s room. He knew who it was but he hoped really hard that ignoring the situation would just make it miraculously go away.

“I knew what I was doing,” Mikey said. Frank kept reading his flashcards, not quite ready to look at Mikey. He wasn’t sure what he would see Mikey as and he didn’t want to find out. “I gave them to Pete to get rid of them. But then I’d…go to take them for real and they’d be gone and I’d think ‘oh, I took them.’ I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

Frank didn’t need or want the explanation. But he was listening intently, he realized, as he’d been reading the same flashcard over and over. “Is that all?” he asked, barely opening his mouth.

There was silence for a moment. Frank saw Mikey, in his peripheral vision, turn his head away. He rubbed his palm into his eye so hard it made Frank flinch. “Yeah,” Mikey croaked. He cleared his throat. Waited. When Frank said nothing more, he walked out.

“Intruder has left the building!” that same person shouted.

It occurred to Frank that he had managed to lose his two best friends in the space of a few weeks and that he’d never felt lonelier, all at once, like Mikey had triggered a god damn avalanche. He stared at the flashcard at the top of the stack until the letters were so blurred he couldn’t care to attempt to reread them. Then he put the cards on his desk and took a nap.

***

Mid-spring the weekend before the weekend before finals meant blankets on the quad. The suite and their friends took up the entire ten foot radius around the big oak tree Sunday afternoon: everyone from Gabe’s crew to Hayley’s crew to Fall Out Boy and My Chem, all sitting around scrutinizing textbooks and each other. Some lying on top of one another, some sitting close sharing a laptop, some sharing snacks. All basking in the glorious, sunny day. For most of them, it was the second to last week of freshman year and all these little clusters of friendships—which varied in fragility—were going to be paused for nearly four months. It had to be enjoyed for the time being.

It wasn’t all dandelions and rainbows, though, as Frank looked at the clusters individually. Vicky was pointedly looking away from Gabe and William cuddling against the tree bark. Pete, Mikey, and Gerard were lying together apart from everyone, as Mikey panicked about the classes he was failing (Frank overheard) while Ashlee, Pete’s suddenly ex-girlfriend, gave them a bitch face from across the quad. And Ray, miserable after a rumored break-up with Gerard, was sitting against the bark just looking around. Frank was throwing a Frisbee with Dewees and Bob while talking to his worried mother one the phone.

“I’m not depressed, Ma, a lot of weird shit has just gone down,” Frank insisted. He leapt and barely caught the disk when Bob threw it at him.

“Are you eating well, sleeping?” she said. Frank threw the disk a little too far right and hit some acrobats near O street.

“Sorry!” Frank called as they shot the Frisbee back. He returned to his phone conversation. “Yes, mother, I’m eating and sleeping.”

“But are you doing it too much or too little?”

Damn it. “Ma, I’m a stressed out college student. We are not the healthiest species.”

The Frisbee flew over Frank’s head and Frank frowned at his roommate. His mom was speaking and when he groaned loudly, walking 20 feet to get to the Frisbee, she became indignant.

“You know what, Ma, I’ll call you back in a little while I love you kisses bye,” Frank said, slowly moving the phone away from his ear to get her yelling away from him. He hung up on her, the greatest capital crime, and sighed as he turned off his phone.

“You’re fucked!” Dewees said.

“Yeah, well…” Frank murmured. He glanced at the oak again.

Ray was suddenly moving toward Frank, looking determined. Frank glanced at him and kept up the game until Ray was a few feet away.

“I want us to at least be friends,” Ray said.

“I didn’t know we weren’t,” said Frank.

Ray sighed. He took Frank’s elbow and led him away, toward L street and past the tennis courts and to the parking lot. Frank just followed pliantly, despite his friends’ protests, because Ray was touching him and he’d missed that.

“What do you want?” Ray asked when they halted by some freshman’s dirty Ford truck.

“Why do you keep _asking_ that?” Frank almost shouted.

“Gerard and I invited you into our relationship. You left us panicked and—”

“That’s my fault?”

“I’m sorry if either of us hurt you! But you can’t just say nothing for a week and expect it to go away, or expect our relationships to wither and die, because I care too much about you to just let you go.”

Ray looked the kind of angry he did when he was passionately defending something. Frank took a deep breath and stepped forward, wrapping his arms around Ray’s waist. Ray took a moment to hug him back and when he did he squeezed tight.

“Neither of you hurt me,” Frank said. “I’m sorry if I scared you. I’m sorry if I said something that screwed up your relationsh—”

“It’s been screwed up a long time,” Ray admitted. “We were going to break up eventually. Frankie, I just wanna know what’s going on with you.”

Frank didn’t even know. He pulled away just enough to look Ray in the face and for a moment the thought of kissing him didn’t make him feel distraught. So he did—he kissed Ray, so briefly that he wasn’t even sure he did it. Ray just looked at him, brow furrowed, that question in his eyes. What do you want?

“I’m not ready to be in a relationship,” Frank said. “I want it. So bad. I want you. But I’m not actually sure what I want. And I’m going about getting it the wrong way. That’s what’s wrong.”

Ray nodded. “Okay,” he said.

He didn’t acknowledge that most of what Frank had said was irrelevant or that Ray himself never mentioned a relationship. Frank didn’t need or want any of that and Ray knew better. Frank took a deep breath and smiled weakly. There it was, everything he needed to say. Okay.

“Just…you know, you’re still one of my best friends,” Ray said, as if he was unsure. Frank nodded. He kissed Ray’s cheek and they hugged another little while. Frank was more at peace than he’d been in a long time. He made a mental note to clear this up with Gerard soon, to call his mom back later and apologize, to study for his exams and worry about nothing else.

They started toward the quad, walking close and playfully bumping into each other. “So,” Frank said, “you wanna play Frisbee?”

***

Frank knew he should be studying. He knew he had two finals in less than 24 hours and that they would account for a large part of his grade. But between Mikey’s impromptu intervention and knowing that these will be his last few days in a freshman dorm, Frank was not in the mood for doing what he should be doing. Instead he started packing, throwing, and placing things into bags and boxes. It was overwhelming and before long he was exhausted but he bought a pack of Red Bull for that very reason.

“INTRUDER ALER—”

“Shut up, Gabe, you leave the front door open for a reason!”

It was Mikey. He and Frank still hadn’t quite reconciled. Everything else seemed to have fallen into place: Frank talked to Gerard, explained everything, and Gerard just hugged him (had that ever happened before?) and told Frank he hoped he’d be better soon so that was sweet; Frank admitted to his mom that he was a little depressed, yeah, and she was too relieved to hear him admit it and get to talk about it a little to even be upset about Frank hanging up on her; and the boys of suite L325, including a seemingly recovered Pete, were all comfortable in each other’s presence again. But Mikey, now standing just outside Frank’s bedroom door (he’d left the door open to let the air flow), just felt like he would be a constant negativity.

“Hi,” said Mikey.

“Hi,” Frank said, not looking up.

“Can I…”

Frank glanced at the skinny, pale, tired-looking man and nodded slightly. Mikey stepped inside and pulled out Bob’s chair, plopping down as Frank moved around his room. Frank didn’t know how to feel about him.

“I withdrew from Spanish but I think I aced yoga,” Mikey said casually. Frank was actually relieved to hear it. Looking over again, he realized Mikey even looked a little healthier. “I’m still barely passing Gen Bio and Anthro. But we’ll see what I can do during finals. Well, Gerard can help me do.”

“Could’ve been worse,” Frank said.

“Exactly…” Mikey leaned back in his seat and sighed. “I’m going to the hospital again,” he said, almost a whisper. “The one I was at, before. My parents want me to take a leave but I don’t. I’ll be better by the end of the summer.”

Mikey said it with such conviction that Frank was taken aback. He dropped the shirt he was holding and turned to Mikey, seeing that he was looking away. His eyes were red and unfocused. His hands were shaking in his lap.

“You better be,” Frank said softly.

“Did you find a new roommate?” Mikey said quickly.

“What?”

“You’re switching, right? Out of our room on O street next year?”

“I never said that,” Frank replied indignantly.

The look Mikey gave him was heartbreakingly hopeful. “So you’re not mad?” Mikey said.

“I never said that either.”

Frank stared and stared at Mikey, who nodded in resignation. He held his fingers and rubbed them awkwardly. Frank thought about every shitty thing they’d done to each other, every dumb fight, and every awful thing that had happened in the past year. Mikey was concurrent with quite a few of those. But he was also a significant part of a lot of the good things. Would Frank have survived his first month of school without Mikey? Probably not. Would Mikey survive the first month of summer without Frank?

“Call me when you get out of that hospital,” Frank said, picking up his t-shirt. “Maybe we could road trip to Chicago.”

He looked to his friend for a reaction. Mikey smiled a little, sitting up straighter. Frank was starting his summer with a clean slate and Mikey deserved one too.

“Hey mom, hi dad,” Mikey said. “I know you’re probably pissed I’ve been using tuition money to feed the drug addiction you already spent money on fixing before…” Frank scoffed as Mikey continued. “But can I maybe drive to Chicago for my boyfriend who hates me with my best friend who also hates me?”

Frank skipped the part where he should ask if he and Pete had actually gotten back together and skidded right to responding, figuring it’d be the easiest way to return to some form of normality for them.

“Fuck that shit,” Frank said. “You are eighteen, motherfucker.”

“I’m nineteen,” Mikey said, shrugging.

“What?” Mikey nodded. “But your birthday’s in September.”

“I got held back in kindergarten.”

Frank folded his arms and narrowed his eyes at Mikey, who just nodded solemnly again. “Kindergarten,” Frank murmured.

“I kept eating paste,” Mikey said. Frank’s mouth fell open and sucked his lips in, closing his eyes. Mikey chuckled. “Go ahead, I know you wanna laugh.”

“You are every cliché in the book!”

Frank fell into a giggling fit. Eventually, they started talking about that kid from the Powerpuff Girls that ate paste. Then about their favorite villains. Their favorite superhero movies. The best worst movies they’ve ever seen. When Bob came back from his study session in the library, Frank and Mikey were lying together with their legs against Frank’s bed, laughing about they won’t even remember what.

***

Three orders of the famous garlic rolls were presented along the coffee table. They were to be divvied up evenly between the suitemates. But first, the presentation of the ceremonial beer. Dewees, who had lost a group game of rock, paper, scissors, passed out the solo cups and opened can after can, filling the cups.

Frank was sitting on his favorite spot on the ground, spinach ravioli in his lap in one of those aluminum containers. Ray sat on the couch behind him, legs on either side of Frank knocking him side to side. Pete and Gabe, weirdly emotional on this their last night as roommates, sat across the coffee table from Frank with their arms hooked. Bob was hugging his knees across from where Dewees was giving everyone their drinks.

It was the Tuesday of finals week, their last night as a suite. Pete’s flight was leaving the next afternoon and Gabe was all packed and ready to go home the next night. Ray and Frank were leaving together Thursday; Dewees and Bob would be the last ones to walk out of the door Friday. Next year, Ray would room with Dewees again but in a double on O street, a couple floors up from where Frank was going to room with Mikey. Gabe was going to M street with William in the duplex on sophomore row colloquially known as the Castle. Bob was grabbing a single on K street as an RA next year and Pete and Patrick were going to a double in J street, which was technically a freshman residential hall but usually housed some sophomores that couldn’t afford better.

Frank thought about all of this as he looked around at these guys that were more than his roommates and more than his friends, in more ways than one. Bob started quietly giving out the garlic rolls as Pete clinked his solo cup with a plastic fork.

“So,” he said.

“That was beautiful,” Dewees said, wiping away imaginary tears.

“Quiet, James!” Pete cleared his throat and a few of his suitemates chuckled. “So, we’re all gonna stay best friends next year, that’s all! Here, here!”

He held his cup above his head and there was a group cheer as four other solo cups smacked his. Then all eyes were on Bob, who was silently slurping spaghetti.

“Obviously, Bob is the one that needs to make the goodbye speech,” Frank said.

“Can you guys, like, not make me cry tonight?” Gabe said.

“We’ve been through a lot of shit together,” Bob said, with no preamble. He finished chewing and everyone watched him intently. “And, you know, I don’t want to make a long, sappy goodbye. Because Pete is right. We’ll keep in touch over the summer, we’ll be close enough next year to hang out occasionally, and we will have these family dinners again.”

“YEAH!” Dewees exclaimed.

“Because we’ve fucking been through hell but I wouldn’t have wanted to go through hell with anyone but you guys,” Bob went on, smiling at Dewees. Frank bit his lip. Pete smiled a little and when Gabe cursed and covered his eyes, Pete rested his head on his arm. Dewees shook his head, looking down. Ray rubbed Frank’s shoulder. Bob smiled at his suitemates in turn. “We fucking survived freshman year!”

There was a round of applause and cheer. Pete shoved spaghetti into his mouth and they all followed suit with their own food. They choked and laughed at each other. They picked each other’s food. Ray fed Frank a garlic roll; Frank tossed one at Gabe’s mouth, which he just barely caught.

“To suite L325,” Frank said, his cup in the air, “and to the inevitable sophomore slump!”

“Here, here!”

They hit their cups against each other repeatedly, spilling beer and giggling. Eventually, they just ate and chatted. Then they played video games. One by one, they passed out: Frank on Ray’s thigh, Ray with his head on the wall, Gabe hugging Pete on the floor, Bob hugging his solo cup, and Dewees after turning off the console and turning the TV to some news channel.

Frank woke up in the middle of the night, startled by the blue light from the screen. He looked around at his sleeping friends and smiled. In three days, suite L325 would not be theirs anymore. But they would always be the boys of L325, and they would always belong to each other.

**Author's Note:**

> The third and final installment will be released...eventually. In the meantime, I want to keep writing shorter things in this AU like I did in Behind the Couch. So if you have anything you'd really like to see, a relationship that's only scratched at the surface (Mikey/Bob) or a moment that is only mentioned (Gabe/Hayley) leave a comment about what you'd like to see! I have pretty much all that background stuff backlogged in my head so I'd be up for elaborating on anything.
> 
> And thanks for reading!


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